GERMAN  PHILOSOPHICAL  CLASSICS 

FOR 

ENGLISH  HEADERS  AND  STUDENTS. 


EDITED  BY 

GEORGE  S.  MORRIS. 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS  CONCERNING 
THE  HITMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


°s  °z  r 


LEIBNIZ’S 


NEW  ESSAYS  CONCERNING  THE 
HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


A CRITICAL  EXPOSITION. 


By  JOHN  DEWEY,  Ph.D., 

ASSISTANT  PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
MICHIGAN,  AND  PROFESSOR  ( ELECT)  OF  MENTAL  AND 
MORAL  PHILOSOPHY  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY 
np  MINNESOTA 

a. 


CHICAGO: 

SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 
1902 


Copyright , 1888, 

By  S.  O Griggs  and  Company. 


/ 9 3.  / 

Vyl  9 A 


PR  E FAC  E. 


HE  purpose  of  the  series  of  which  the 


present  volume  is  one,  is  not,  as  will  be 
seen  by  reference  to  the  statement  in  the  in- 
itial volume,  to  sum  up  in  toto  the  system 
of  any  philosopher,  but  to  give  a “ critical  ex- 
position ” of  some  one  masterpiece.  In  treat- 
ing the  “ Nouveaux  Essais  ” of  Leibniz,  I have 
found  myself  obliged,  at  times,  to  violate  the 
letter  of  this  expressed  intention,  in  order  to 
fulfil  its  spirit.  The  “Nouveaux  Essais,”  in 
spite  of  its  being  one  of  the  two  most  extended 
philosophical  writings  of  Leibniz,  is  a compen- 
dium of  comments,  rather  than  a connected 
argument  or  exposition.  It  has  all  the  sug- 
gestiveness and  richness  of  a note-book,  but 
with  much  also  of  its  fragmentariness.  I have 
therefore  been  obliged  to  supplement  my  ac- 


VI 


PREFACE. 


count  of  it,  by  constant  references  to  the  other 
writings  of  Leibniz,  and  occasionally  to  take 
considerable  liberty  with  the  order  of  the  treat- 
ment of  topics.  Upon  the  whole,  this  book 
will  be  found,  1 hope,  to  be  a faithful  reflex 
not  only  of  Leibniz's  thought,  but  also  of  his 
discussions  in  the  Nouveaux  Essais.” 

In  the  main,  the  course  of  philosophic  thought 
since  the  time  of  Leibniz  has  been  such  as 
to  render  almost  self-evident  his  limitations, 
and  to  suggest  needed  corrections  and  ampli- 
fications. Indeed,  it  is  much  easier  for  those 
whose  thoughts  follow  the  turn  that  Kant 
has  given  modern  thinking  to  appreciate  the 
defects  of  Leibniz  than  to  realize  his  great- 
ness. I have  endeavored,  therefore,  in  the  body 
of  the  work,  to  identify  my  thought  with  that 
of  Leibniz  as  much  as  possible,  to  assume 
his  standpoint  and  method,  and,  for  the  most 
part,  to  confine  express  criticism  upon  his  lim- 
itations to  the  final  chapter.  In  particular,  I 
have  attempted  to  bring  out  the  relations 
of  philosophy  to  the  growing  science  of  his 


PREFACE. 


VI 1 


times,  to  state  the  doctrine  of  pre-established 
harmony  as  he  himself  meant  it,  and  to  give 
something  like  consistency  jmd  coherency  to 
his  doctrine  of  material  existence  and  of  na- 
ture. This  last  task  seemed  especially  to  re- 
quire doing.  I have  also  endeavored  to  keep 
in  mind,  throughout,  Leibniz’s  relations  to 
Locke,  and  to  show  the  “ Nouveaux  Essais  ” 
as  typical  of  the  distinction  between  charac- 
teristic British  and  German  thought. 


May,  1888. 


JOHN  DEWEY. 


I 


f 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  L 
The  Man. 

PAGE 

His  Parents 1 

His  Early  Education 2 

His  University  Training  at  Leipsic 4 

At  Jena 8 

At  the  University  of  Altdorf 10 

His  Removal  to -Frankfurt 10 

His  Mission  to  Paris 11 

Discovery  of  the  Calculus . . 12 

Librarian  at  Hanover 13 

His  Activities . 14 

His  Philosophic  Writings 15 

His  Ecclesiastic  and  Academic  Projects 17 

His  Later  Years  and  Death 18 

CHAPTER  II. 

Sources  of  his  Philosophy. 

Character  of  the  Epoch  into  which  Leibniz  was  born  . 20 

The  Thought  of  the  Unity  of  the  World 23 

The  two  Agencies  which  formed  Leibniz’s  Philosophy  . 24 

The  Cartesian  Influences 26 

Rationalistic  Method 28 

Mechanical  Explanation  of  Nature  .......  30 


X 


CONTENTS. 


Application  of  Mathematics 32 

Idea  of  Evolution 33 

Interpretation  of  these  Ideas 35 

Idea  of  Activity  or  Entclechy 39 

Idea  of  Rationality 40 

Idea  of  Organism 42 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  Problem  and  its  Solution. 

Unity  of  Leibniz’s  Thought 43 

Relation  of  Universal  and  Individual 44 

Descartes’  Treatment,  of  this  Question  ....  . . 40 

Spinoza’s  Treatment  of  it 48 

Leibniz’s  Solution 50 

All  Unity  is  Spiritual 53 

And  Active 54 

Is  a Representative  Individual 56 

Contrast  of  Monad  and  Atom 58 

Pre-established  Harmony  reconciles  Universal  and  In- 
dividual   59 

Meaning  of  this  Doctrine 62 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Locke  and  Leibniz. — Innate  Ideas. 

Necessity  of  Preliminary  Account  of  Leibniz’s  Philosophy  66 

Locke’s  Empiricism 67 

Leibniz’s  Comments  upon  Locke 69 

The  Controversies  of  Leibniz 72 

The  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding 73 

Locke’s  Denial  of  Innate  Ideas 75 

Depending  upon 

(1)  His  Mechanical  Conception  of  lunate  Ideas  . 77 


CONTEXTS. 


XI 


Leibniz  undermines  this  by  substituting  an  Organic 

Conception 80 

And  upon 

(2)  His  Mechanical  Conception  of  Consciousness  . 84 

Leibniz  refutes  this  by  his  Theory  of  Unconscious 
Intelligence S5 

CHAPTER  V. 

Sensation  and  Experience. 

Importance  of  Doctrine  regarding  Sensation  ....  87 

The  Two  Elements  of  Locke’s  Notion  of  Sensation  . . 89 

Its  Relation  to  the  Object  producing  it:  Primary  and 

Secondary  Qualities 91 

Locke  criticized  as  to  his  Account 

(1)  Of  the  Production  of  Sensation 92 

(2)  Of  its  Function  in  Knowledge 95 

The  Meaning  of  Physical  Causation 97 

Bearingof  this  Doctrine  upon  Relation  of  Soul  and  Body  98 

Criticism  of  Locke’s  Dualism 98 

Leibniz’s  Monism 101 

Summary  of  Discussion 103 

Leibniz  on  the  Relation  of  Sensations  to  Objects 

occasioning  them 105 

Nature  of  Experience 106 

Distinction  of  Empirical  from  Rational  Knowledge  . . 107 

CHAPTER  YI. 

The  Impulses  and  the  Will. 

The  Doctrine  of  Will  depends  upon  that  of  Intelligence  109 
The  Character  of  Impulse  Ill 


XU 


CONTENTS. 


Ot' Desire 112 

Half- Pains  and  Pleasures n:$ 

The  Outcome  of  Desire 115 

Nature  of  Moral  Action 117 

Of  Freedom US 

(1)  Freedom  as  Contingency 119 

Limitation  of  this  Principle 121 

(2)  Freedom  as  Spontaneity 123 

This  Principle  is  too  Broad  to  be  a Moral 

Principle 125 

(3)  True  Freedom  is  Rational  Action  . . . . 125 

Our  Lack  of  Freedom  is  due  to  our  Sensuous  Nature  . 12S 

Innate  Practical  Principles 129 

Moral  Science  is  Demonstrative 130 


CHAPTER  YLI. 

Matter  and  its  Relation  to  Spirit. 

Locke’s  Account  of  Matter  and  Allied  Ideas  the  Foun- 
dation of  the  Philosophy  of  Nature  Characteristic  of 


British  Empiricism 132 

Space  and  Matter  wholly  Distinct  Ideas 134 

Leibniz  gives  Matter  a Metaphysical  Basis  . . . . 137 

Ordinary  Misunderstanding  of  Leibniz’s  Ideas  of  Matter  138 

Matter  is  not  composed  of  Monads 139 

Matter  is  the  Passive  or  Conditioned  Side  of  Monads  . 110 

Passivity  equals  “ Confused  Representations,”  i.  e.  In- 
complete Development  of  Reason Ill 

Matter  is  logically  Necessary  from  Leibniz’s  Principles  115 
Bearing  of  Discussion  upon  Doctrine  of  Pre-established 
Harmony 116 


CONTENTS. 


Xlll 


Cl-IAPTEll  VIII. 

Material  Phenomena  and  their  Reality. 

What  is  the  Connection  between  Matter  as  Metaphysi- 
cal and  as  Physical  ? 151 

The  Latter  is  the  “ linage  ” of  the  Former  ....  151 

| Leibniz’s  Reaction  from  Cartesian  Theory 152 

I Lis  Objections  are  (1)  Physical  and  (2)  Logical  . . 153 

(1)  Motion  is  Source  of  Physical  Qualities  of  Bodies  . 155 

Hence  there  are  no  Atoms 158 

Secondary  Qualities  as  well  as  Primary  depend  upon 

Motion 160 

(2)  What  is  the  Subject  to  which  the  Quality  of  Exten- 
sion belongs  ? 161 

It  is  the  Monad  as  Passive 162 

Space  and  Time  connect  the  Spiritual  and  the  Sensible  . 164 

Distinction  between  Space  and  Time,  and  Extension 

and  Duration 166 

Space  and  Time  are  Relations 167 

Leibniz’s  Controversy  with  Clarke  . 168 

Leibniz  denies  that  Space  and  Time  are  Absolute  . . 170 

What  is  the  Reality  of  Sensible  Phenomena?  ....  173 

It  consists 

(1)  In  their  Regularity 174 

(2)  In  their  Dependence'  upon  Intelligence  and 

Will 175 

Leibniz  and  Berkeley ....  1 77 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Some  Fundamental  Conceptions. 

Locke’s  Account  of  Substance  as  Static 179 

The  Distinction  between  Reality  and  Phenomena  . . 180 

Leibniz’s  Conception  of  Substance  as  Dynamic  . . . 181 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


His  Specific  Criticisms  upon  Locke 182 

The  Categories  of  Identity  and  Difference  Locke  also 

explains  in  a Mechanical  Way 183 

Leibniz  regards  them  as  Internal  and  as  Organic  to 

each  other 184 

Locke  gives  a Quantitative  Notion  of  Infinity  . . . 188 

And  lienee  makes  our  Idea  of  it  purely  Negative . . . 189 

Leibniz  denies  that  the  True  Notion  of  Infinity  is  Quan- 
titative   : . . . . 189 

He  also  denies  Locke’s  Account  of  the  Origin  of  the  In- 
definite   192 

In  General,  Locke  lias  a Mechanical  Idea,  Leibniz  a 
Spiritual,  of  these  Categories 193 


CHAPTER  X. 

The  Nature  and  Extent  of  Knowledge. 


Locke’s  Definition  and  Classification  of  Knowledge  . . 196 

Leibniz’s  Criticism 197 

Leibniz,  Berkeley,  and  Kant  regarding  Knowledge  of 

Objects 198 

The  Degrees  of  Knowledge,  — Intuitive,  Demonstrative, 

and  Sensitive 199 

Locke’s  Contradictory  Theories  regarding  the  Origin  of 


Knowledge f 202 

Locke  starts  both  with  the  Individual  as  given  to  Con- 
sciousness and  with  the  Unrelated  Sensation  . . . 204 

Either  Theory  makes  Relations  or  “ Universals  ” Unreal  205 
As  to  the  Extent  of  Knowledge,  that  of  Identity  is  Wide, 

but  Trifling 205 

That  of  Real  Being  includes  God,  Soul,  and  Matter,  but 

only  as  to  their  Existence 206 

And  even  this  at  the  Expense  of  contradicting  his  Defi- 
nition of  Knowledge 206 


CONTENTS.  XV 

Knowledge  of  Co-existence  is  either  Trifling  or  Impos- 
sible   207 

Leibniz  restsupon  Distinction  of  Contingent  and  Rational 

Truth 209 

The  Former  may  become  the  Latter,  and  is  then  Demon- 
strative   210 

The  Means  of  this  Transformation  are  Mathematics  and 

Classification 215 

There  are  Two  Principles,  — One  of  Contradiction  . . 217 

The  Other  of  Sufficient  Reason 218 

The  Latter  leads  us  to  God  as  the  Supreme  Intelligence 
and  the  Final  Condition  of  Contingent  Fact  . . . 219 

The  Four  Stages  of  Knowledge 222 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Theology  of  Leibniz. 

Leibniz’s  Three  Arguments  for  the  Existence  of  God  . 224 

The  Value  of  the  Ontological 225 

The  Cosmological 226 

The  Teleological 226 

The  Attributes  of  God 227 

The  Relation  of  God  to  the  World,  his  Creating  Activity  228 
Creation  involves  Wisdom  and  Goodness  as  well  as  Power  229 
The  Relation  of  God  to  Intelligent  Spirits : they  form  a 

Moral  Community 230 

Leibniz  as  the  Founder  of  Modern  German  Ethical  Sys- 
tems   231 

The  End  of  Morality  is  Happiness  as  Self-realization  . 232 

The  Three  Stages  of  Natural  Right 234 

The  Basis  of  Both  Leibniz’s  Ethics  and  Political  Philos- 
ophy is  Man’s  Relation  to  God 236 

His  Aesthetics  have  the  Same,  Basis 237 

MaiPs-Spirit  as  Architectonic . 23> 


XVI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Criticism  and  Conclusion. 

Leibniz’s  Fundamental  Contradiction  is  between  his 

Method  and  his  Subject  Matter 240 

'the  Use  which  Leibniz  makes  of  the  Principle  of  Suffi- 
cient, Reason  reveals  this  Contradiction 242 

The  Contradiction  is  between  the  Ideas  of  Formal  and 

of  Concrete  Unity 243 

From  this  Contradiction  flow 

( 1 ) The  Contradiction  in  the  Notion  of  Individuality  246 

Which  becomes  purely  Negative  . . . . . 247 

The  Negative  he  interprets  as  merely  Privative  249 

(2)  The  Contradiction  in  his  Conception  of  God  has 

the  Same  Source 250 

He  really  lias  Three  Definitions  of  God  . . 250 

One  results  in  Atomism,  another  in  Pantheism  251 
The  Third  in  a Conception  of  the  Organic  Har- 
mony of  the  Infinite  and  Finite  . . . . 252 

(3)  The  Contradiction  between  the  Real  and  the 

Ideal  in  the  Monads  has  the  Same  Source  . 253 

(4)  As  have  also  the  Contradictions  in  the  Treat- 

ment of  the  Relations  of  Matter  and  Spirit  251 

(5)  And  finally,  his  Original  Contradiction  leads  to 

a Contradictory  Treatment  of  Knowledge  . 257 

Summary  as  to  the  Positive  Value  of  Leibniz  ....  259 

The  Influence  of  Leibniz’s  Philosophy  ......  261 

Especially  upon  Kant 262 

Kant  claims  to  be  the  True  Apologist  for  Leibniz  . . 263 

(1)  As  to  the  Doctrine  of  Sufficient  Reason  and 

Contradiction  ..........  263 

Which  finds  its  Kantian  Analogue  in  the  Dis- 
tinction between  Analytic  and  Synthetic 
Judgment  .....  266 


CONTENTS.  XVii 

(2)  As  to  the  Relation  of  Monads  and  Matter  . . 268 

Which  finds  its  Kantian  Analogue  in  the  Rela- 
tion of  the  Sensuous  and  Supersensuous  . 268 

(3)  And  finally,  as  to  the  Doctrine  of  Pre-estab- 

lished Harmony 269 

Which  Kant  transforms  into  Harmony  between 
Understanding  and  Sense  ......  269 

And  between  the  Categories  of  the  Under- 
standing and  the  Ideas  of  Reason  . . . 270 

Conclusion .....  272 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS 


CONCERNING 


THE  HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


E who  knows  me  only  by  my  writings  does 


not  know  me,”  said  Leibniz.  These  words 
• — true,  indeed,  of  every  writer,  but  true  of  Leib- 
niz in  a way  which  gives  a peculiar  interest  and 
charm  to  his  life  — must  be  our  excuse  for  pref- 
acing what  is  to  be  said  of  his  “ New  Essays  con- 
cerning the  Human  Understanding  ” with  a brief 
biographical  sketch. 

Gottfried  Wilhelm  Leibniz  was  born  in  Leipzig 
June  21t  1646.  His  father,  who  died  when  Leibniz 
was  only  six  years  old,  was  a professor  in  the  uni- 
versity and  a notary  of  considerable  practice.  From 
him  the  future  philosopher  seems  to  have  derived  his 
extraordinary  industry  and  love  of  detail.  Such  ac- 
counts as  we  have  of  him  show  no  traces  of  the 
wonderful  intellectual  genius  of  his  son,  but  only  a 
diligent,  plodding,  faithful,  and  religious  man,  a 
thoroughly  conscientious  husband,  jurist,  and  pro- 
fessor. Nor  in  the  lines  of  physical  heredity  can 


CHAPTER  I. 


TIIE  MAN. 


2 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


we  account  for  the  unique  career  of  Leibniz  by  his 
mother’s  endowments.  The  fact,  however,  that  she 
was  patient  in  all  trial,  living  in  peace  with  her  neigh- 
bors, anxious  for  unity  and  concord  with  all  people, 
even  with  those  not  well  disposed  to  her,  throws  great 
light  upon  the  fundamental  trait  of  Leibniz’s  ethical 
nature.  As  in  so  many  cases,  it  is  the  inherited 
moral  characteristics  which  form  the  basis  of  the 
intellectual  nature.  The  love  of  unity  which  was  a 
moral  trait  in  Leibniz’s  mother  became  in  him  the 
hunger  for  a harmonious  and  unified  mental  world  ; 
the  father’s  devotion  to  detail  showed  itself  as  the 
desire  for  knowledge  as  minute  and  comprehensive 
as  it  was  inter-related. 

Left  without  his  father,  he  was  by  the  advice  of  a 
discerning  friend  allowed  free  access  to  the  library. 
Leibniz  never  ceased  to  count  this  one  of  the  greatest 
fortunes  of  his  life.  Writing  in  after  years  to  a 
friend,  he  says  : — 

“ When  I lost  my  father,  and  was  left  with- 
out any  direction  in  my  studies,  I had  the  luck 
to  get  at  books  in  all  languages,  of  all  religions, 
upon  all  sciences,  and  to  read  them  without  any 
regular  order,  just  as  my  own  impulse  led  me. 
From  this  I obtained  the  great  advantage  that  I 
was  freed  from  ordinary  prejudices,  and  introduced 
to  many  things  of  which  I should  otherwise  never 
have  thought.” 

In  a philosophical  essay,  in  which  he  describes 
himself  under  the  name  of  Gulielmus  Pacidius,  he 
says : — 


THE  MAN. 


3 


“Wilhelm  Friedlieb,  a German  by  birth,  who 
lost  his  father  in  his  early  years,  was  led  to 
study  through  the  innate  tendency  of  his  spirit ; 
and  the  freedom  with  which  he  moved  about  in 
the  sciences  was  equal  to  this  innate  impulse. 
He  buried  himself,  a boy  eight  years  old,  in  a 
library,  staying  there  sometimes  whole  days,  and, 
hardly  stammering  Latin,  he  took  up  every  book 
which  pleased  his  eyes.  Opening  and  shutting  them 
without  any  choice,  he  sipped  now  here,  now  there, 
lost  himself  in  one,  skipped  over  another,  as  the 
clearness  of  expression  or  of  content  attracted  him. 
He  seemed  to  be  directed  by  the  Tolle  et  lege  of  a 
higher  voice.  As  good  fortune  would  have  it,  he 
gave  himself  up  to  the  ancients,  in  whom  he  at  first 
understood  nothing,  by  degrees  a little,  finally  all 
that  was  really  necessary,  until  he  assumed  not  only 
a certain  coloring  of  their  expression,  but  a±so  of 
their  thought,  — just  as  those  who  go  about  in  the 
sun,  even  while  they  are  occupied  with  other  things, 
get  sun-browned.” 

And  he  goes  on  to  tell  us  that  their  influence 
always  remained  with  him.  Their  human,  their 
important,  their  comprehensive  ideas,  grasping  the 
whole  of  life  in  one  image,  together  with  their 
clear,  natural,  and  transparent  mode  of  expression, 
adapted  precisely  to  their  thoughts,  seemed  to  him 
to  be  in  the  greatest  contrast  with  the  writings  of 
moderns,  without  definiteness  or  order  in  expres- 
sion, and  without  vitality  or  purpose  in  thought,  — 
“ written  as  if  for  another  world.”  Thus  Leibniz 


4 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


learned  two  of  the  great  lessons  of  his  life,  — to 
seek  always  for  clearness  of  diction  and  for  per- 
tinence and  purpose  of  ideas. 

Historians  and  poets  first  occupied  him  ; but  when 
in  his  school-life,  a lad  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years, 
he  came  to  the  study  of  logic,  he  was  greatly  struck, 
he  says,  by  the  “ ordering  and  analysis  of  thoughts 
which  he  found  there.”  He  gave  himself  up  to 
making  tables  of  categories  and  predicaments,  an- 
alyzing each  book  that  he’read  into  suitable  topics, 
and  arranging  these  into  classes  and  sub-classes. 
We  can  imagine  the  astonishment  of  his  playmates 
as  he  burst  upon  them  with  a demand  to  classify 
this  or  that  idea,  to  find  its  appropriate  predica- 
ment. Thus  he  was  led  naturally  to  the  philosophic 
books  in  his  father’s  library,  — to  Plato  and  to 
Aristotle,  to  the  Scholastics.  Suarez,  in  particular, 
among  the  latter,  he  read  ; and  traces  of  his  influ- 
ences are  to  be  found  in  the  formulation  of  his  own 
philosophic  system.  At  about  this  same  time  he 
took  great  delight  in  the  theological  works  with 
which  his  father’s  library  abounded,  reading  with 
equal  ease  and  pleasure  the  writings  of  the  Lutherans 
and  of  the  Reformed  Church,  of  the  Jesuits  and 
the  Jansenists,  of  the  Thomists  and  the  Arminians. 
The  result  was,  he  tells  us,  that  he  was  strengthened 
in  the  Lutheran  faith  of  his  family,  but,  as  we  may 
easily  imagine  from  his  after  life,  made  tolerant  of 
all  forms  of  faith. 

In  1661  the  boy  Leibniz,  fifteen  years  old,  entered 
the  University  of  Leipzig,  If  we  glance  back  upon 


THE  MAN. 


5 


his  attainments,  we  find  him  thoroughly  at  home  in 
Latin,  having  made  good  progress  in  Greek,  ac- 
quainted with  the  historians  and  poets  of  antiquity, 
acquainted'with  the  contemporary  range  of  science, 
except  in  mathematics  and  physics,  deeply  read 
and  interested  in  ancient  and  scholastic  philosophy 
pmd  in  the  current  theological  discussions.  Of  him- 
'self  he  says  : — 

“ Two  things  were  of  extraordinary  aid  to  me  : in 
the  first  place,  I was  self-taught ; and  in  the  second, 
as  soon  as  I entered  upon  any  science  I sought  for 
something  new,  even  though  1 did  not  as  yet  thor- 
oughly understand  the  old.  I thus  gained  two 
things  : I did  not  fill  my  mind  with  things  empty  and 
to  be  unlearned  afterwards,  — things  resting  upon 
the  assertion  of  the  teacher,  and  not  upon  reason  ; 
and  secondly,  I never  rested  till  I got  down  to  the 
very  roots  of  the  science  and  reached  its  principles.” 

While  there  is  always  a temptation  to  force 
the  facts  which  we  know  of  a man’s  early  life, 
so  as  to  make  them  seem  to  account  for  what 
appears  in  mature  years,  and  to  find  symbolisms 
and  analogies  which  do  not  exist,  we  are  not  going 
astray,  I think,  if  we  see  foreshadowed  in  this 
early  education  of  Leibniz  the  two  leading  traits  of 
his  later  thought,  — universality  and  individuality. 
The  range  of  Leibniz’s  investigations  already  marks 
him  as  one  who  will  be  content  with  no  fundamental 
principle  which  does  not  mirror  the  universe.  The 
freedom  with  which  he  carried  them  on  is  testimony 
to  the  fact  that  even  at  this  age  the  idea  of  self- 


6 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


development,  of  individual  growth  from  within,  was 
working  upon  him.  In  the  fact,  also,  that  he  was 
self-taught  we  find  doubtless  the  reason  that  he 
alone  of  the  thinkers  of  this  period  did  not  have  to 
retrace  his  steps,  to  take  a hostile  attitude  towards 
the  ideas  into  which  he  was  educated,  and  to  start 
anew  upon  a foundation  then  first  built.  The  de- 
velopment of  the  thought  of  Leibniz  is  so  gradual, 
continuous,  and  constant  that  it  may  serve  as  a 
model  of  the  law  by  which  the  “monad”  acts.  Is 
not  his  early  acquaintance  with  ancient  literature 
and  mediaeval  philosophy  the  reason  that  he  could 
afterwards  write  that  his  philosophical  system  “ con- 
nects Plato  with  Democritus,  Aristotle  with  Des- 
cartes, the  Scholastics  with  the  moderns,  theology 
and  morals  with  reason  ”?  And  who  can  fail  to  see 
in  the  impartiality,  the  comprehensiveness,  of  his 
self-education  the  prophecy  of  the  time  when  he  can 
write  of  his  ideas  that  “ there  are  united  in  them,  as 
in  a centre  of  perspective,  the  ideas  of  the  Sceptics 
in  attributing  to  sensible  things  only  a slight  degree 
of  reality  ; of  the  Pythagoreans  and  Platonists,  who 
reduce  all  to  harmonies,  numbers,  and  ideas ; of 
Parmenides  and  Plotinus,  with  their  One  and  All  ;L 
of  the  Stoics,  witli  their  notion  of  necessity,  com- 
patible with  the  spontaneity  of  other  schools  ; of  the 
vital  philosophy  of  the  C'abalists,  who  find  feeling 
everywhere  ; of  the  forms  and  entelechies  of  Aris- 
totle and  the  Schoolmen,  united  with  the  mechanical 
explanation  of  phenomena  according  to  Democritus 
and  the  moderns  ” ? 


THE  MAN. 


7 


But  we  must  hurry  along  over  the  succeeding 
years  of  his  life.  In  the  university  the  study  of 
law  was  his  principal  occupation,  as  he  had  decided 
to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  his  father.  It  cannot 
be  said  that  the  character  of  the  instruction  or  of 
the  instructors  at  Leipzig  was  such  as  to  give  much 
nutriment  or  stimulus  to  a mind  like  that  of  Leib- 
niz. He  became  acquainted  there,  however,  with 
the  Italian  philosophy  of  the  sixteenth  century,  — 
a philosophy  which,  as  formulated  by  Cardanus 
and  Campanella,  formed  the  transition  from  Scho- 
lastic philosophy  to  the  “mechanical”  mode  of 
viewing  the  universe.  He  had  here  also  his  first 
introduction  to  Descartes.  The  consequences  of 
the  new  vision  opened  to  Leibniz  must  be  told  in  his 
own  words:  “I  was  but  a child  when  I came  to 
know  Aristotle  ; even  the  Scholastics  did  not  frighten 
me  ; and  I in  no  way  regret  this  now.  Plato  and 
Plotinus  gave  me  much  delight,  not  to  speak  of 
other  philosophers  of  antiquity.  Then  I fell  in 
with  the  writings  of  modern  philosophy,  and  I re- 
call the  time  when,  a boy  of  fifteen  years,  I went 
walking  in  a little  wood  near  Leipzig,  the  Bosenthal, 
in  order  to  consider  whether  I should  hold  to  the 
doctrine  of  substantial  forms.  Finally  the  mechan- 
ical theory  conquered,  and  thus  I was  led  to  the 
study  of  the  mathematical  sciences.” 

To  the  study  of  the  mathematical  sciences ! 
Surely  words  of  no  mean  import  for  either  the  fu- 
ture of  Leibniz  or  of  mathematics.  But  his  Leipzig 
studies  did  not  take  him  very  far  in  this  new  direc- 


8 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


tion.  Only  the  elements  of  Euclid  were  taught 
there,  and  these  by  a lecturer  of  such  confused  style 
that  Leibniz  seems  alone  to  have  understood  them. 
In  Jena,  however,  where  he  went  for  a semester, 
things  were  somewhat  better.  Weigel,  a mathema- 
tician of  some  fame,  an  astronomer,  a jurist,  and  a 
philosopher,  taught  there,  and  introduced  Leibniz 
into  the  lower  forms  of  analysis.  But  the  Thirty 
Years’  War  had  not  left  Germany  in  a state  of  high 
culture,  and  in  after  years  Leibniz  lamented  the 
limitations  of  his  early  mathematical  training,  re- 
marking that  if  lie  had  spent  his  youth  in  Paris,  he 
would  have  enriched  science  earlier.  By  1666  Leib- 
niz had  finished  his  university  career,  having  in 
previous  years  attained  the  degrees  of  bachelor  of 
philosophy  and  master  of  philosophy.  It  is  signifi- 
cant that  for  the  first  he  wrote  a thesis  upon  the 
principle  of  individuation,  — the  principle  which  in 
later  years  became  the  basis  of  his  philosophy. 
This  early  essay,  however,  is  rather  an  exhibition 
of  learning  and  of  dexterity  in  handling  logical 
methods  than  a real  anticipation  of  his  after- 
thought. 

For  his  second  degree,  he  wrote  a thesis  upon  the 
application  of  philosophic  ideas  to  juridie  proced- 
ure, — considerations  which  never  ceased  to  occupy 
him.  At  about  the  same  time  appeared  his  earliest 
independent  work,  “De  Arte  Combinatoria.”  From 
his  study  of  mathematics,  and  especially  of  alge- 
braic methods,  Leibniz  had  become  convinced  that 
the  source  of  all  science  is,  — first,  analysis  ; second, 


THE  MAN. 


9 


symbolic  representation  of  the  fundamental  con- 
cepts, the  symbolism  avoiding  the  ambiguities  and 
vagueness  of  language  : and  thirdly,  the  synthesis 
and  interpretation  of  the  symbols.  It  seemed  to 
Leibniz  that  it  ought  to  be  possible  to  find  the  sim- 
plest notions  in  all  the  sciences,  to  discover  general 
rules  for  calculating  all  their  varieties  of  combina- 
tion, and  thus  to  attain  the  same  certainty  and 
generality  of  result  that  characterize  mathematics. 
Leibniz  never  gave  up  this  thought.  Indeed,  in 
spirit  his  philosophy  is  but  its  application,  with  the 
omission  of  symbols,  on  the  side  of  the  general  no- 
tions fundamental  to  all  science.  It  was  aiso  the  idea 
of  his  age,  — the  idea  that  inspired  Spinoza  and  the 
Aufklarung , the  idea  that  inspired  philosophical 
thinking  until  Kant  gave  it  its  death-blow  by 
demonstrating  the  distinction  between  the  methods 
of  philosophy  and  of  mathematical  and  physical 
science. 

In  1666  Leibniz  should  have  received  his  double 
doctorate  of  philosophy  and  of  law  ; but  petty  jeal- 
ousies and  personal  fears  prevented  his  presenting 
himself  for  the  examination.  Disgusted  with  his 
treatment,  feeling  that  the  ties  that  bound  him  to 
Leipzig  were  severed  by  the  recent  death  of  his 
mother,  anxious  to  study  mathematics  further,  and, 
as  he  confesses,  desiring,  with  the  natural  eager- 
ness of  youth,  to  see  more  of  the  world,  he  left 
Leipzig  forever,  and  entered  upon  his  Wanderjallre. 
He  was  prepared  to  be  no  mean  citizen  of  the  world. 
In  his  education  he  had  gone  from  the  historians  to 


10 


tEIBNIZ'S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


the  poets,  from  the  poets  to  the  philosophers  and 
the  Scholastics,  from  them  to  the  theologians  and 
Church  Fathers,  then  to  the  jurists,  to  the  mathema- 
ticians, and  then  again  to  philosophy  and  to  law. 

He  first  directed,  his  steps  to  the  University  of 
Altdorf ; here  he  obtained  his  doctorate  in  law,  and 
was  offered  a professorship,  which  he  declined,  — 
apparently  because  lie  felt  that  his  time  was  not  yet 
come,  and  that  when  it  should  come,  it  would  not 
be  in  the  narrow  limits  of  a country  village.  From 
Altdorf  he  went  to  Niirnberg;  here  all  that  need 
concern  us  is  the  fact  that  he  joined  a society  of 
alchemists  (frciternitas  roseoecrucis) , and  was  made 
their  secretary.  Hereby  he  gained  three  things,  — 
a knowledge  of  chemistry  ; an  acquaintance  with  a 
number  of  scientific  men  of  different  countries,  with 
whom,  as  secretary,  he  carried  on  correspondence  ; 
and  the  friendship  of  Boineburg,  a diplomat  of  the 
court  of  the  Elector  and  Archbishop  of  Mainz. 
This  friendship  was  the  means  of  his  removing  to/ 
Frankfurt.  Here,  under  the  direction  of  the  Elec- 
tor, he  engaged  in  remodelling  Roman  law  so  as  to 
adapt  it  for  German  use,  in  writing  diplomatic 
tracts,  letters,  and  essays  upon  theological  matters, 
and  in  editing  an  edition  of  Nizolius,  — a now  for- 
gotten philosophical  writer.  One  of  the  most  note- 
worthy facts  in  connection  with  this  edition  is  that 
Leibniz  pointed  out  the  fitness  of  the  German  lan- 
guage for  philosophical  uses,  and  urged  its  em- 
ployment, — a memorable  fact  in  connection  with 
the  later  development  of  German  thought.  Another 


THE  MAN. 


11 


important  tract  which  he  wrote  was  one  urging  the 
alliance  of  all  the  German  States  for  the  purpose 
of  advancing  their  internal  and  common  interests. 
Here,  as  so  often,  Leibniz  was  almost  two  centuries 
in  advance  of  his  times.  But  the  chief  thing  in 
connection  with  the  stay  of  Leibniz  at  Mainz  was 
the  cause  for  which  he  left  it.  Louis  XIV.  had 
broken  up  the  Triple  Alliance,  and  showed  signs  of 
attacking  Holland  and  the  German  Empire.  It  was 
then  proposed  to  him  that  it  would  be  of  greater 
glory  to  himself  and  of  greater  advantage  to  France 
that  he  should  move  against  Turkey  and  Egypt. 
The  mission  of  presenting  these  ideas  to  the  great 
king  was  intrusted  to  Leibniz,  and  in  1672  he  went 
to  Paris. 

The  plan  failed  completely,  — so  completely  that 
Ive  need  say  no  more  about  it.  But  the  journey 
lo  Paris  was  none  the  less  the  turning-point  in  the 
career  of  Leibniz.  It  brought  him  to  the  centre 
of  intellectual  civilization, — to  a centre  compared 
with  which  the  highest  attainments  of  disrupted 
and  disheartened  Germany  were  comparative  bar- 
barism. Moliere  was  still  alive,  and  Racine  was  at 
the  summit  of  his  glory.  Leibniz  became  acquainted 
with  Arnaud,  a disciple  of  Descartes,  who  initiated 
him  into  the  motive  and  spirit  of  his  master.  Car- 
tesianism  as  a system,  with  its  scientific  basis  and 
its  speculative  Consequences,  thus  first  became  to 
him  an  intellectual  reality.  And,  perhaps  most 
important  of  all,  he  met  Huygens,  who  became  his 
teacher  and  inspirer  both  in  the  higher  forms  of 


12 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


mathematics  and  in  their  application  to  the  inter- 
pretation and  expression  of  physical  phenomena. 
His  diplomatic  mission  took  him  also  to  London, 
where  the  growing  world  of  mathematical  science 
was  opened  yet  wider  to  him.  The  name  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  need  only  be  given  to  show  what  this 
meant.  From  this  time  one  of  the  greatest  glories 
of  Leibniz’s  life  dates,  — a glory,  however,  which 
during  his  lifetime  was  embittered  by  envy  and 
unappreciation,  and  obscured  by  detractiou  and 
malice,  — the  invention  of  the  infinitesimal  cal- 
culus. It  would  be  interesting,  were  this  the  place, 
to  trace  the  history  of  its  discovery,  — the  gradual 
steps  which  led  to  it,  the  physical  facts  as  well  as 
mathematical  theories  which  made  it  a necessity  ; 
hut  it  must  suffice  to  mention  that  these  were  such 
that  the  discovery  of  some  general  mode  of  ex- 
pressing and  interpreting  the  n§wly  discovered  facts 
of  Nature  was  absolutely  required  for  the  further 
advance  of  science,  and  that  steps,  towards  the  intro- 
duction of  the  fundamental  ideas  of  the  calculus 
had  already  been  taken,  — notably  by  Keppler,  by 
Cavalieri,  and  by  Wallis.  It  would  be  interesting 
to  follow  also  the  course  of  the  controversy  with 
Newton,  — a controversy  which  in  its  method  of 
conduct  reflects  no  credit  upon  the  names  of  either. 
But  this  can  be  summed  up  by  saying  that  it  is  now 
generally  admitted  that  absolute  priority  belongs  to 
Newton,  but  that  entire  independence  and  originality 
characterize  none  the  less  the  work  of  Leibniz,  and 
that  the  method  of  approach  and  statement  of  the 


THE  MAN. 


13 


latter  are  the  more  philosophical  and  general,  and, 
to  use  the  words  of  the  judicious  summary  of  Merz, 
“ Newton  cared  more  for  the  results  than  the  prin- 
ciple, while  Leibniz  was  in  search  of  fundamental 
principles,  and  anxious  to  arrive  at  simplifications 
and  generalizations.” 

I The  death  of  Boineburg  removed  the  especial  rea- 
sons for  the  return  of  Leibniz  to  Frankfurt,  and  in 
1676  he  accepted  the  position  of  librarian  and  pri- 
vate councillor  at  the  court  of  Hanover.  It  arouses 
our  interest  and  our  questionings  to  know  that  on 
his  journey  back  he  stopped  at  the  Hague,  and  there 
met  face  to  face  the  other  future  great  philosopher 
of  the  time,  Spinoza.  But  our  questionings  meet 
no  answer.  At  Hanover,  the  industries  of  Leibniz 
were  varied.  An  extract  from  one  of  his  own  let- 
ters, though  written  at  a somewhat  later  date,  will 
give  the  best  outline  of  his  activities. 

“It  is  incredible  how  scattered  and  divided  are 
my  occupations.  I burrow  through  archives,  inves- 
tigate old  writings,  and  collect  unprinted  manu- 
scripts, with  a view  to  throwing  light  on  the  history 
of  Brunswick.  I also  receive  and  write  a countless 
number  of  letters.  I have  so  much  that  is  new  in 
mathematics,  so  many  thoughts  in  philosophy,  so 
many  literary  observations  which  I cannot  get  into 
shape,  that  in  the  midst  of  my  tasks  I do  not  know 
where  to  begin,  and  with  Ovid  am  inclined  to  cry 
out : ‘ My  riches  make  me  poor.’  I should  like  to 
give  a description  of  my  calculating-machine  ; but 
time  fails.  Above  all  else  I desire  to  complete  my 


4 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


Dynamics,  as  I think  that  I have  finally  discovered 
the  true  laws  of  material  Nature,  by  whose  means 
problems  about  bodies  which  are  out  of  reach  of 
rules  now  known  may  be  solved.  Friends  are 
urging  me  to  publish  my  Science  of  the  Infinite, 
containing  the  basis  of  my  new  analysis.  I have 
also  on  hand  a new  Characteristic,  and  many  general 
considerations  about  the  art  of  discovery.  But  all 
these  works,  the  historical  excepted,  have  to  be 
done  at  odd  moments.  Then  at  the  court  all  sorts 
of  things  are  expected.  I have  to  answer  ques- 
tions on  points  in  international  law ; on  points 
concerning  the  rights  of  the  various  princes  in  the 
Empire : so  far  I have  managed  to  keep  out  of 
questions  of  private  law.  With  all  this  I have  had 
to  carry  on  negotiations  with  the  bishops  of  Neustadt 
and  of  Meaux  [Bossuet],  and  with  Pelisson  and 
others  upon  religious  matters.” 

It  is  interesting  to  note  how  the  philosophic  spirit, 
the  instinct  for  unity  and  generality,  showed  itself 
even  in  the  least  of  Leibniz’s  tasks.  The  Duke  of 
Brunswick  imposed  upon  Leibniz  the  task  of  draw- 
ing up  a genealogical  table  of  his  House.  Under 
Leibniz’s  hands  this  expanded  into  a history  of  the 
House,  and  this  in  turn  was  the  centre  of  an  impor- 
tant study  of  the  German  Empire.  It  was  impossible 
that  the  philosopher,  according  to  whom  every  real 
being  reflected  the  whole  of  the  universe  from  its 
point  of  view,  should  have  been  able  to  treat  even  a 
slight  phase  of  local  history  without  regarding  it  in 
its  relations  to  the  history  of  the  world.  Similarly 


THE  MAN. 


15 


some  mining  operations  in  the  Harz  Mountains 
called  the  attention  of  Leibniz  to  geological  matters. 
The  result  was  a treatise  called  “ Protogaa,”  in 
which  Leibniz  gave  a history  of  the  development  of 
the  earth.  Not  content  with  seeing  in  a Brunswick 
mountain  an  epitome  of  the  world’s  physical  forma- 
tion, it  was  his  intention  to  make  this  an  introduc- 
tion to  his  political  history  as  a sort  of  geographical 
background  and  foundation.  It  is  interesting  to 
note  that  the  historical  studies  of  Leibniz  took  him 
on  a three  years’  journey,  from  1687  to  1690, 
through  the  various  courts  of  Europe,  — a fact  which 
not  only  had  considerable  influence  upon  Leibniz 
himself,  but  which  enabled  him  to  give  stimulus  to 
scientific  development  in  more  ways  and  places  than 
one. 

His  philosophical  career  as  an  author  begins  for 
the  most  part  with  his  return  to  Hanover  in  1690. 
This  lies  outside  of  the  scope  of  the  present  chapter, 
but  here  is  a convenient  place  to  call  attention  to  the 
fact  that  for  Leibniz  the  multitude  of  his  other 
duties  was  so  great  that  his  philosophical  work  was 
the  work  “ of  odd  moments.”  There  is  no  syste- 
matic exposition  ; there  are  a vast  number  of  letters, 
of  essays,  of  abstracts  and  memoranda  published  in 
various  scientific  journals.  His  philosophy  bears 
not  only  in  form,  but  in  substance,  traces  of  its  hap- 
hazard and  desultory  origin.  Another  point  of 
interest  in  this  connection  is  the  degree  to  which,  in 
form,  at  least,  his  philosophical  writings  bear  the 
impress  of  his  cosmopolitan  life.  Leibniz  had  seen 


16 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


too  much  of  the  world,  too  much  of  courts,  for  his 
thoughts  to  take  the  rigid  and  unbending  form  of 
geometrical  exposition  suited  to  the  lonely  student 
of  the  Hague.  Nor  was  the  regular  progression  and' 
elucidation  of  ideas  adapted  to  the  later  Germans, 
almost  without  exception  university  professors, 
suited  to  the  man  of  affairs.  There  is  everywhere 
in  Leibniz  the  attempt  to  adapt  his  modes  of  state- 
ment, not  only  to  tire  terminology,  but  even  to  the 
ideas,  of  the  one  to  whom  they  are  addressed.  There 
is  the  desire  to  magnify  points  of  agreement,  to  mini- 
mize disagreements,  characteristic  of  the  courtier  and 
the  diplomat.  His  comprehensiveness  is  not  only 
a comprehensiveness  of  thought,  but  of  ways  of  ex- 
position, due  very  largely,  we  must  think,  to  his  cos- 
mopolitan education.  The  result  has  been  to  the 
great  detriment  of  Leibniz’s  influence  as  a syste 
matic  thinker,  although  it  may  be  argued  that  it  has 
aided  his  indirect  and  suggestive  influence,  the  ab- 
sorption of  his  ideas  by  men  of  literature,  by  Goethe, 
above  all  by  Lessing,  and  his  stimulating  effect 
upon  science  and  philosophy.  It  is  certain  that  the 
attempt  to  systematize  his  thoughts,  as  was  done  by 
Wolff,  had  for  its  result  the  disappearance  of  all 
that  was  profound  and  thought-exciting. 

If  his  philosophy  thus  reflects  the  manner  of  his 
daily  life,  the  occupations  of  the  latter  were  informed 
by  the  spirit  of  his  philosophy.  Two  of  the  dearest 
interests  of  Leibniz  remain  to  be  mentioned,  — one, 
the  founding  of  academies  ; the  other,  the  reconciling 
of  religious  organizations.  The  former  testifies  to 


THE  MAN. 


17 


his  desire  for  comprehensiveness,  unity,  and  organi- 
zation of  knowledge  ; the  latter  to  his  desire  for 
practical  unity,  his  dislike  of  all  that  is  opposed  and 
isolated.  His  efforts  in  the  religious  direction  were 
twofold.  The  first  was  to  end  the  theological  and 
political  controversies  of  the  time  by  the  reunion  of 
the  Protestant  and  Roman  Catholic  Churches.  It 
was  a plan  which  did  the  greatest  honor  to  the  pacific 
spirit  of  Leibniz,  but  it  was  predestined  to  failure. 
Both  sides  made  concessions,  — more  concessions 
than  we  of  to-day  should  believe  possible.  But  the 
one  thing  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  would  not  con- 
cede was  the  one  thing  which  the  Protestant  Church 
demanded,  — the  notion  of  authority  and  hierarchy. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  questioned  whether  the  terms  on 
which  Leibniz  conceived  of  their  reunion  do  not 
point  to  the  greatest  weakness  in  his  philosophy,  — • 
the  tendency  to  overlook  oppositions  and  to  resolve 
all  contradiction  into  differences  of  degree.  Hardly 
had  this  plan  fallen  through  when  Leibniz  turned 
to  the  project  of  a union  of  the  Lutheran  and  Re- 
formed branches  of  the  Protestant  Church.  This 
scheme  was  more  hopeful,  and  while  unrealized  dur- 
ing the  life  of  our  philosopher,  was  afterwards 
accomplished. 

It  is  noteworthy  that  even  before  Leibiiiz  went  to 
Paris  and  to  London  he  had  conceived  the  idea  of 
a society  of  learned  men  for  the  investigation,  the 
systematization,  and  the  publication  of  scientific 
truth  in  all  its  varied  forms,  — a society  which 
should  in  breadth  include  the  whole  sphere  of 


18 


LEIBNIZS  NEW  ESSAYS. 


sciences,  but  should  not  treat  them  as  so  many  iso- 
lated disciplines,  but  as  members  of  one  system. 
This  idea  was  quickened  when  Leibniz  saw  the 
degree  in  which  it  had  already  been  realized  in  the 
two  great  world-capitals.  lie  never  ceased  to  try  to 
introduce  similar  academies  wherever  he  had  influ- 
ence. In  1700  his  labors  bore  their  fruit  in  one 
instance.  The  Academy  at  Berlin  was  founded, 
and  Leibniz  was  its  first,  and  indeed  life-long, 
president.  But  disappointment  met  him  at  Vienna, 
Dresden,  and  St.  Petersburg,  where  he  proposed 
similar  societies. 

Any  sketch  of  Leibniz’s  life,  however  brief,  would 
be  imperfect  which  did  not  mention  the  names  at 
least  of  two  remarkable  women,  — remarkable  in 
themselves,  and  remarkable  in  their  friendship 
with  Leibniz.  These  were  Sophia,  grand-daughter 
of  James  I.  of  England  (and  thus  the  link  by 
which  the  House  of  Brunswick  finally  came  to 
rule  over  Great  Britain)  and  wife  of  the  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  and  her  daughter  Sophia  Charlotte, 
wife  of  the  first  king  of  Prussia.  The  latter, 
in  particular,  gave  Leibniz  every  encouragement. 
She  was  personally  deeply  interested  in  all  theo- 
logical and  philosophical  questions.  Upon  her 
death-bed,  in  1705,  she  is  said  to  have  told  those 
about  her  that  they  were  not  to  mourn  for  her,  as 
she  should  now  be  able  to  satisfy  her  desire  to 
learn  about  things  which  Leibniz  had  never  suf- 
ficiently explained. 

Her  death  marks  the  beginning  of  a period  in 


THE  MAN. 


19 


Leibniz’s  life  which  it  is  not  pleasant  to  dwell 
upon.  New  rulers  arose  that  knew  not  Leibniz. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  from  this  time  till  his  death 
in  Hanover  in  1716  Leibniz  had  much  joy  or  sat- 
isfaction. His  best  friends  were  dead ; his  po- 
litical ambitions  were  disappointed;  he  was  sus- 
pected of  coldness  and  unfriendliness  by  the  courts 
both  of  Berlin  and  Hanover;  Paris  and  Vienna 
were  closed  to  him,  so  far  as  any  wide  influence 
was  concerned,  by  his  religious  faith ; the  con- 
troversy with  the  friends  of  Newton  still  followed 
him.  He  was  a man  of  the  most  remarkable  in- 
tellectual gifts,  of  an  energy  which  could  be  sat- 
isfied only  with  wide  fields  of  action  ; and  he  found 
himself  shut  in  by  narrow  intrigue  to  a petty  round 
of  courtly  officialism.  It  is  little  wonder  that  the 
following  words  fell  from  his  lips:  “Germany  is 
the  only  country  in  the  world  that  does  not  know 
how  to  recognize  the  fame  of  its  children  and  to 
make  that  fame  immortal.  It  forgets  itself  ; it  for- 
gets its  own,  unless  foreigners  make  it  mindful  of 
its  own  treasures.”  A Scotch  friend  of  Leibniz, 
who  happened  to  be  in  Hanover  when  he  died,  wrote 
that  Leibniz  “ was  buried  more  like  a robber  than 
what  he  really  was,  — the  ornament  of  his  country.” 
Such  was  the  mortal  end  of  the  greatest  intellectual 
genius  since  Aristotle.  But  genius  is  not  a matter 
to  be  bounded  in  life  or  in  death  by  provincial 
courts.  Leibniz  remains  a foremost  citizen  in  that 
“ Kingdom  of  Spirits  ” in  whose  formation  he  found 
the  meaning  of  the  world. 


20 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 
/"HAT  is  true  of  all  men  is  true  of  phi- 


Speaking  generally,  what  they  are  unconsciously 
and  fundamentally,  they  are  through  absorption  of 
their  antecedents  and  surroundings.  What  they 
are  consciously  and  reflectively,  they  are  through 
their  reaction  upon  the  influence  of  heredity  and 
environment.  But  there  is  a spiritual  line  of  de- 
scent and  a spiritual  atmosphere ; and  in  speaking 
of  a philosopher,  it  is  with  this  intellectual  heredity 
and  environment,  rather  than  with  the  physical, 
that  we  are  concerned.  Leibniz  was  born  into  a 
period  of  intellectual  activity  the  most  teeming 
with  ideas,  the  most  fruitful  in  results,  of  any, 
perhaps,  since  the  age  of  Pericles.  We  pride 
ourselves  justly  upon  the  activity  of  our  own  cen- 
tury, and  in  diffusion  of  intellectual  action  and 
wide-spread  application  of  ideas  the  age  of  Leibniz 
could  not  compare  with  it.  But  ours  is  the  age 
of  diffusion  and  application,  while  his  was  one  of 
fermentation  and  birth. 

Such  a period  in  its  earlier  days  is  apt  to  be 
turbid  and  unsettled.  There  is  more  heat  of  fric- 
tion than  calm  light.  And  such  had  been  the  case 


losophers,  and  of  Leibniz  among  them. 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


21 


in  the  hundred  years  before  Leibniz.  But  when  he 
arrived  at  intellectual  maturity  much  of  the  crudity 
had  disappeared.  The  troubling  of  the  waters  of 
thought  had  ceased ; they  were  becoming  clarified. 
Bacon,  Hobbes,  Descartes,  each  had  crystallized 
something  out  of  that  seething  and  chaotic  mass  of 
new  ideas  which  had  forced  itself  into  European 
consciousness.  Men  had  been  introduced  into  a 
new  world,  and  the  natural  result  iiad  been  feelings 
of  strangeness,  and  the  vagaries  of  intellectual 
wanderings.  But  by  the  day  of  Leibniz  the  in- 
tellectual bearings  had  been  made  out  anew,  the 
new  mental  orientation  had  been  secured. 

The  marks  of  this  “ new  spiritual  picture  of  the 
universe”  are  everywhere  to  be  seen  in  Leibniz. 
His  philosophy  is  the  dawning  consciousness  of  the 
modern  world.  In  it  we  see  the  very  conception 
and  birth  of  the  modern  interpretation  of  the  world. 
The  history  of  thought  is  one  continuous  testimony 
to  the  ease  with  which  we  become  hardened  to  ideas 
through  custom.  Ideas  are  constantly  precipitating 
themselves  out  of  the  realm  of  ideas  into  that  of 
ways  of  thinking  and  of  viewing  the  universe.  The 
problem  of  one  century  is  the  axiom  of  another. 
What  one  generation  stakes  its  activity  upon  in- 
vestigating is  quietly  taken  for  granted  by  the 
next.  And  so  the  highest  reach  of  intellectual 
inspiration  in  the  sixteenth  century  is  to-day  the 
ordinary  food  of  thought,  accepted  without  an 
inquiry  as  to  its  source,  and  almost  without  a sus- 
picion that  it  has  a recent  historic  origin.  We  have 


LEIBNIZ  S NEW  ESSAYS. 


to  go  to  Bacon  or  to  Leibniz  to  see  the  genesis  and 
growth  of  those  ideas  which  to-day  have  become 
materialized  into  axiomatic  points  of  view  and  into 
hard-and-fast  categories  of  thought.  In  reading 
Leibniz  the  idea  comes  over  us  in  all  its  freshness 
that  there  was  a time  when  it  was  a discovery  that 
the  world  is  a universe,  made  after  one  plan  and 
of  one  stuff.  The  ideas  of  inter-relation,  of  the. 
harmony  of  law,  of  mutual  dependence  and  cor- 
respondence, were  not  always  the  assumed  sfarting- 
points  of  thought ; they  were  once  the  crowning 
discoveries  of  a philosophy  aglow  and  almost  in- 
toxicated with  the  splendor  of  its  far-reaching 
generalizations.  I take  these  examples  of  the  unity 
of  the  world,  the  continuity  and  interdependence  of 
all  within  it,  because  these  are  the  ideas  which  come 
to  their  conscious  and  delighted  birth  in  the  phi- 
losophy of  Leibniz.  We  do  not  put  ourselves  into 
the  right  attitude  for  understanding  his  thought 
until  we  remember  that  these  ideas  — the  commonest 
tools  of  our  thinking  — were  once  new  and  fresh, 
and  in  their  novelty  and  transforming  strangeness 
were  the  products  of  a philosophic  interpretation 
of  experience.  Except  in  that  later  contemporary 
of  Leibniz,  the  young  and  enthusiastic  Irish  idealist, 
Berkeley,  I know  of  no  historic  thinker  in  whom  the 
birth-throes  (joydhs,  however)  of  a new  conception 
of  the  world  are  so  evident  as  in  Leibniz.  But 
while  in  Berkeley  what  we  see  is  the  young  man 
carried  away  and  astounded  by  the  grandeur  and 
simplicity  of  a “new  way  of  ideas”  which  he  has 


TIIE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


23 


discovered,  what  we  see  in  Leibniz  is  the  mature 
man  penetrated  throughout  his  being  with  an  idea 
which  in  its  unity  answers  to  the  unity  of  the  world, 
and  which  in  its  complexity  answers,  tone  to  tone, 
to  the  complex  harmony  of  the  world. 

The  familiarity  of  the  ideas  which  vTe  use  hides 
their  grandeur  from  us.  The  unity  of  the  world  is 
a matter  of  course  with  us ; the  dependent  order 
of  all  within  it  a mere  starting-point  upon  which 
to  base  our  investigations.  But  if  we  will  put  our- 
selves in  the  position  of  Leibniz,  and  behold,  not 
the  new  planet,  but  the  new  universe,  so  one,  so 
linked  together,  swimming  into  our  ken,  we  shall 
feel  something  of  the  same  exultant  thrill  that 
Leibniz  felt,  — an  exultation  not  indeed  personal 
in  its  nature,  but  which  arises  from  the  expansion 
of  the  human  mind  face  to  face  with  an  expanding- 
world.  The  spirit  which  is  at  the  heart  of  the 
philosophy  of  Leibniz  is  the  spirit  which  speaks 
in  the  following  words:  “ Quin  imo  qui  unam  par- 
tem materise  comprehenderet,  idem  comprehenderet 
totum  universum  ob  eandem  -cptyolp^o-tv  quam  dixi. 
Mea  principia  talia  sunt,  ut  vix  a se  invicem  develli 
possiut.  Qui  unam  bene  novit,  omnia  novit.”  It 
is  a spirit  which  feels  that  the  secret  of  the  universe 
has  been  rendered  up  to  it,  and  which  breathes 
a buoyant  optimism.  And  if  we  of  the  nineteenth 
century  have  chosen  to  bewail  the  complexity  of 
the  problem  of  life,  and  to  run  hither  and  thither 
multiplying  “ insights”  and  points  of  view  till  this 
enthusiastic  confidence  in  reason  seems  to  us  the 


24 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


rashness  of  an  ignorance  which  does  not  compre- 
hend the  problem,  and  the  unity  in  which  Leibniz 
rested  appears  cold  and  abstract  beside  the  mani- 
fold richness  of  the  world,  we  should  not  forget  that 
after  all  we  have  incorporated  into  our  very  mental 
structure  the  fundamental  thoughts  of  Leibniz, — 
the  thoughts  of  the  rationality  of  the  universe  and 
of  the  “ reign  of  law.” 

What  was  the  origin  of  these  ideas  in  the  mind 
of  Leibniz?  What  influences  in  the  philosophic  suc- 
cession of  thinkers  led  him  in  this  direction  ? What 
agencies  acting  in  the  intellectual  world  about  him 
shaped  his  ideal  reproduction  of  reality?  Two 
causes  above  all  others  stand  out  with  prominence, 
— one,  the  discoveries  and  principles  of  modern 
physical  science ; the  other,  that  interpretation  of 
experience  which  centuries  before  had  been  formu- 
lated by  Aristotle.  Leibniz  lias  a double  interest 
for  those  of  to-day  who  reverence  science  and  who 
hold  to  the  historical  method.  II is  philosophy  was 
an  attempt  to  set  in  order  the  methods  and  prin- 
ciples of  that  growing  science  of  nature  which  even 
then  was  transforming  the  emotional  and  mental 
life  of  Europe  ; and  the  attempt  was  guided  every- 
where by  a profound  and  wide-reaching  knowledge 
of  the  history  of  philosophy.  On  the  first  point 
Leibniz  was  certainly  not  aloue.  Bacon,  Hobbes, 
Descartes,  Spinoza,  each  felt  in  his  own  way  the 
fructifying  touch  of  the  new-springing  science,  and 
had  attempted  under  its  guidance  to  interpret  the 
facts  of  nature  and  of  man.  But  Leibniz  stood 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HtS  PHILOSOPHY. 


25 


alone  in  his  interest  in  the  history  of  thought.  He 
stands  alone  indeed  till  he  is  greeted  by  his  com- 
peers of  the  nineteenth  century.  To  Bacon  pre- 
vious philosophy  — the  Greek,  the  scholastic  — was 
an  “ eidol  of  the  theatre.”  The  human  mind  must  be 
freed  from  its  benumbing  influence.  To  Descartes 
it  was  useless  rubbish  to  be  cleared  away,  that  we 
might  get  a tabula  rasa,  upon  which  to  make  a fresh 
start.  And  shall  Locke  and  the  empirical  English 
school,  or  Reid  and  the  Scotch  school,  or  even  Kant, 
be  the  first  to  throw  a stone  at  Bacon  and  Descartes  ? 
It  was  reserved  to  Leibniz,  with  a genius  almost 
two  centuries  in  advance  of  his  times,  to  penetrate 
the  meaning  of  the  previous  development  of  re- 
flective thought.  It  would  be  going  beyond  our 
brief  to  claim  that  Leibniz  was  interested  in  this  as 
a historical  movement,  or  that  he  specially  concerned 
himself  with. the  genetic  lines  which  connected  the 
various  schools  of  thought.  But  we  should  come 
short  of  our  duty  to  Leibniz  if  we  did  not  recognize 
his  conscious  and  largely  successful  attempt  to  ap- 
prehend the  core  of  truth  in  all  systems,  however 
alien  to  his  own,  and  to  incorporate  it  into  his 
own  thinking. 

Nothing  could  be  more  characteristic  of  Leibniz 
than  his  saying,  “I  find  that  most  systems  are 
right  in  a good  share  of  that  which  they  advance, 
but  not  so  much  in  what  they  deny  ; ” or  than  this 
other  statement  of  his,  “We  must  not  hastily  be- 
lieve that  which  the  mass  of  men,  or  even  of  authori- 
ties, advance,  but  each  must  demand  for  himself  the 


LEIBNIZS  NEW  ESSAYS. 


proofs  of  the  thesis  sustained.  Yet  long  research 
generally  convinces  that  the  old  and  received  opin- 
ions are  good,  provided  they  be  interpreted  justly.” 
It  is  in  the  profound  union  in  Leibniz  of  the  prin- 
ciples which  these  quotations  image  that  his  abiding 
worth  lies.  Leibniz  was  interested  in  affirmations, 
not  in  denials.  lie  was  interested  in  securing  the 
union  of  the  modern  method , the  spirit  of  original 
research  and  independent  judgment,  with  the  con- 
served results  of  previous  thought.  Leibniz  was  a 
man  of  his  times ; that  is  to  say,  he  was  a scien- 
tific man,  — the  contemporary,  for  example,  of  men 
as  different  as  Bernouilli,  Swammerdam,  Iluygens, 
and  Newton,  and  was  himself  actively  engaged  in 
the  prosecution  of  mathematics,  mechanics,  geology, 
comparative  philology,  and  jurisprudence.  But  he 
was  also  a man  of  Aristotle’s  times,  — that  is  to  say, 
a philosopher,  not  satisfied  until  the  facts,  principles, 
and  methods  of  science  had  received  an  interpreta- 
tion which  should  explain  and  unify  them. 

Leibniz’s  acquaintance  with  the  higher  forms  of 
mathematics  was  due,  as  wre  have  seen,  to  his  ac- 
quaintance with  Huygens.  As  he  made  the  acquain- 
tance of  the  latter  at  the  same  time  that  he  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  followers  of  Descartes,  it 
is  likely  that  he  received  his  introduction  to  the 
higher  developments  of  the  scientific  interpretation 
of  nature  and  of  the  philosophic  interpretation  of 
science  at  about  the  same  time.  For  a while,  then, 
Leibniz  was  a Cartesian  ; and  he  never  ceased  to 
call  the  doctrine  of  Descartes  the  antechamber  of 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


27 


truth.  What  were  the  ideas  which  he  received  from 
Descartes?  Fundamentally  they  were  two,  — one 
about  the  method  of  truth,  the  other  about  the 
substance  of  truth.  He  received  the  idea  that  the 
method  of  philosophy  consists  in  the  analysis  of  any 
complex  group  of  ideas  down  to  simple  ideas  which 
shall  be  perfectly  clear  and  distinct ; that  all  such 
clear  and  distinct  ideas  are  true,  and  may  then  be 
used  for  the  synthetic  reconstruction  of  any  body 
of  truth.  Concerning  the  substance  of  philosophic 
truth,  he  learned  that  nature  is  to  be  interpreted 
mechanically,  and  that  the  instrument  of  this  me- 
chanical interpretation  is  mathematics.  I have  used 
the  term  “received”  in  speaking  of  the  relation  of 
Leibniz  to  these  ideas.  Yet  long  before  this  time 
we  might  see  him  giving  himself  up  to  dreams  about 
a vast  art  of  combination  which  should  reduce  all 
the  ideas  concerned  in  any  science  to  their  simplest 
elements,  and  then  combine  them  to  any  degree  of 
complexity.  We  have  already  seen  him  giving  us  a 
picture  of  a boy  of  fifteen  gravely  disputing  with 
himself  whether  he  shall  accept  the  doctrine  of  forms 
and  final  causes,  or  of  physical  causes,  and  as  grave- 
ly deciding  that  he  shall  side  with  the  “ moderns  ; ” 
and  that  boy  was  himself.  In  these  facts  we  have 
renewed  confirmation  of  the  truth  that  one  mind 
never  receives  from  another  anything  excepting  the 
stimulus,  the  reflex,  the  development  of  ideas  which 
have  already  possessed  it.  But  when  Leibniz,  with 
his  isolated  and  somewhat  ill-digested  thoughts, 
came  in  contact  with  that  systematized  and  con- 


28 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


nected  body  of  doctrines  which  the  Cartesians 
presented  to  him  in  Paris,  his  ideas  were  quick- 
ened, and  he  felt  the  necessity  — that  final  mark 
of  tire  philosophic  mind  — of  putting  them  in 
order. 

About  the  method  of  Descartes,  which  Leibniz 
adopted  from  him,  or  rather  formulated  for  himself 
under  the  influence  of  Descartes,  not  much  need  be 
said.  It  was  the  method  of  Continental  thought  till 
the  time  of  Kant.  It  was  the  mother  of  the  philo- 
sophic systems  of  Descartes,  Leibniz,  and  Spinoza. 
It  was  equally  the  mother  of  the  German  Aujklanmg 
and  the  French  eclaircissement.  Its  fundamental 
idea  is  the  thought  upon  which  Rationalism  every- 
where bases  itself.  It  says  : Reduce  everything  to 
simple  notions.  Get  clearness ; get  distinctness. 
Analyze  the  complex.  Shun  the  obscure.  Dis- 
cover axioms  ; employ  these  axioms  in  connection 
with  the  simple  notions,  and  build  up  from  them. 
Whatever  can  be  treated  in  this  way  is  capable  of 
proof,  and  only  this.  Leibniz,  I repeat,  possessed 
this  method  in  common  with  Descartes  and  Spinoza. 
The  certainty  and  demonstrativeness  of  mathematics 
stood  out  in  the  clearest  contrast  to  the  uncertainty, 
the  obscurity,  of  all  other  knowledge.  And  to  them, 
as  to  all  before  the  days  of  Kant,  it  seemed  beyond 
doubt  that  the  method  of  mathematics  consists  in 
the  analysis  of  notions,  and  in  their  synthesis  through 
the  medium  of  axioms,  which  are  true  because  iden- 
tical statements  ; while  the  notions  are  true  because 
clear  and  distinct. 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


29 


A Lid  yet  the  method  led  Leibniz  in  a very  different 
direction.  One  of  the  fundamental  doctrines,  for 
example,  of  Leibniz  is  the  existence  everywhere 
of  minute  and  obscure  perceptions,  — which  are  of 
the  greatest  importance,  but  of  which  we,  at  least, 
can  never  have  distinct  consciousness.  How  is 
ihis  factor  of  his  thought,  which  almost  approaches 
mysticism,  to  be  reconciled  with  the  statements  just 
made?  It  is  found  in  the  different  application 
which  is  made  of  the  method.  The  object  of  Des- 
cartes is  the  erection  of  a new  structure  of  truth  upon 
a tabula  rasa  of  all  former  doctrines.  The  object 
of  Leibniz  is  the  interpretation  of  an  old  body  of 
truth  by  a method  which  shall  reveal  it  in  its  clearest 
light.  Descartes  and  Spinoza  are  “rationalists” 
both  in  their  method  and  results.  Leibniz  is  a 
“ rationalist”  in  Lis  method;  but  his  application  of 
the  method  is  everywhere  controlled  by  historic  con- 
siderations. It  is,  I think,  impossible  to  over- 
emphasize this  fact.  Descartes  was  profoundly 
convinced  that  past  thought  had  gone  wrong,  and 
that  its  results  were  worthless.  Leibniz  was  as 
'profoundly  convinced  that  its  instincts  had  been 
right,  and  thatjdie  general  idea  of  the  world  which 
it  gave  was  correct.  Leibniz  would  have  given  the 
heartiest  assent  to  Goethe’s  saying,  “ Das  Wahre 
war  schon  liingst  gef linden.”  It  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, then,  that  he  should  use  the  new  method  in  any 
other  than  an  interpreting  way  to  bring  out  in  a 
connected  system  and  unity  the  true  meaning  of  the 
subject-matter. 


3.0 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


fSo  much  of  generality  for  the  method  of  Leibniz. 
The  positive  substance  of  doctrine  which  he  devel- 
oped under  scientific  influence  affords  matter  for 
more  discussion.  Of  the  three  influences  which 
meet  us  here,  two  are  still  Cartesian  ; the  third  is 
from  the  new  science  of  biology,  although  not  yet 
answering  to  that  name.  These  three  influences  are, 
in  order  : the  idea  that  nature  is  to  be  explained 
mechanically ; that  this  is  to  be  brought  about 
through  the  application  of  mathematics  ; and,  from 
biology,  the  idea  that  all  change  is  of  the  nature  of 
continuous  growth  or  unfolding.  Let  us  consider 
each  in  this  order. 

What  is  meant  by  the  mechanical  explanation  of 
nature  ? To  answer  a question  thus  baldly  put,  we 
must  recall  the  kind  of  explanations  which  had  satis- 
fied the  scholastic  men  of  science.  They  had  been 
explanations  which,  however  true,  Leibniz  says,  as 
general  principles,  do  not  touch  the  details  of  the 
matter.  The  explanations  of  natural  facts  had  been 
found  in  general  principles,  in  substantial  forces,  in 
occult  essences,  in  native  faculties.  Now,  the  first 
contention  of  the  founders  of  the  modern  scientific 
movement  was  that  such  general  considerations  are 
not  verifiable,  and  that  if  they  are,  they  are  entirely 
aside  from  the  point,  — they  fail  to  explain  any 
given  fact.  Explanation  must  always  consist  in 
discovering  an  immediate  connection  between  some 
fact  and  some  co-existing  or  preceding  fact.  Ex- 
planation does  not  consist  in  referring  a fact  to  a 
general  power,  it  consists  in  referring  it  to  an  ante- 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


31 


cedent  whose  existence  is  its  necessary  condition. 
It  was  not  left  till  the  times  of  Mr.  Huxley  to  poke 
fun  at  those  who  would  explain  some  concrete  pheno- 
menon by  reference  to  an  abstract  principle  ending 
in  — ity.  Leibniz  has  his  word  to  say  about  those 
who  would  account  for  the  movements  of  a watch 
by  reference  to  a principle  of  horologity,  and  of 
mill-stones  by  a tractive  principle. 

Mechanical  explanation  consists,  accordingly,  in 
making  out  an  actual  connection  between  two  exist- 
ing facts.  But  this  does  not  say  very  much.  A 
connection  of  what  kind?  In  the  first  place,  a con- 
nection of  the  same  order  as  the  facts  observed. 
If  we  are  explaining  corporeal  phenomena,  we  must 
find  a corporeal  link  ; if  we  are  explaining  phenom- 
ena of  motion,  we  must  find  a connection  of  motion. 
In  one  of  his  first  philosophical  works  Leibniz,  in 
taking  the  mechanical  position,  states  what  he  means 
by  it.  In  the  “Confession  of  Nature  against  the 
Atheists  ” he  says  that  it  must  be  confessed  to  those 
who  have  revived  the  corpuscular  theory  of  Democ- 
ritus and  Epicurus,  to  Galileo,  Bacon,  Gassendi, 
Hobbes,  and  Descartes,  that  in  explaining  material 
phenomena  recourse  is  to  be  had  neither  to  God  nor 
to  any  other  incorporeal  thing,  form,  or  quality, 
but  that  all  things  are  to  be  explained  from  the 
nature  of  matter  and  its  qualities,  especially  from 
their  magnitude,  figure,  and  motion.  The  physics 
of  Descartes,  to  which  was  especially  due  the  spread 
of  mechanical  notions,  virtually  postulated  the  prob- 
lem : given  a homogeneous  quantity  of  matter, 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


endowed  only  with  extension  and  mobility,  to  ac- 
count for  all  material  phenomena.  Leibniz  accepts 
this  mechanical  view  without  reserve. 

What  has  been  said  suggests  the  bearing  of  math- 
ematics in  this  connection.  Extension  and  mobility 
may  be  treated  by  mathematics.  It  is  indeed  the 
business  of  the  geometer  to  give  us  an  analysis  of 
figured  space,  to  set  before  us  all  possible  com- 
binations which  can  arise,  assuming  extension  only. 
The  higher  analysis  sets  before  us  the  results  which 
inevitably  follow  if  we  suppose  a moving  point  or 
any  system  of  movements.  Mathematics  is  thus 
the  essential  tool  for  treating  physical  phenomena 
as  just  defined.  But  it  is  more.  The  mechanical 
explanation  of  Nature  not  only  requires  such  a de- 
velopment of  mathematics  as  will  make  it  applica- 
ble to  the  interpretation  of  physical  facts,  but  the 
employment  of  mathematics  is  necessary  for  the 
very  discovery  of  these  facts.  Exact  observation 
was  the  necessity  of  the  growing  physical  science  ; 
and  exact  observation  means  such  as  will  answer 
the  question,  How  much?  Knowledge  of  nature  de- 
pends upon  our  ability  to  measure  her  processes, — 
that  is,  to  reduce  distinctions  of  quality  to  those  of 
quantity.  The  only  assurance  that  we  can  finally 
have  that  two  facts  are  connected  in  such  a Avay  as 
to  fulfil  the  requirements  of  scientific  research,  is 
that  there  is  a complete  quantitative  connection 
between  them,  so  that  one  can  be  regarded  as  the 
other  transformed.  The  advance  of  physical  sci- 
ence from  the  days  of  Copernicus  to  the  present 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


33 


has  consisted,  therefore,  on  one  hand,  in  a develop- 
ment of  mathematics  which  lias  made  it  possible  to 
apply  it  in  greater  and  greater  measure  to  the  dis- 
cussion and  formulation  of  the  results  of  experi- 
ment, and  to  deduce  laws  which,  when  interpreted 
physically,  will  give  new  knowledge  of  fact ; and, 
on  the  other,  to  multiply,  sharpen,  and  make  pre- 
cise all  sorts  of  devices  by  which  the  processes  of 
nature  may  be  measured.  The  explanation  of  na- 
ture by  natural  processes  ; the  complete  application 
of  mathematics  to  nature,  — these  are  the  two 
thoughts  which,  so  far,  we  have  seen  to  be  funda- 
mental to  the  development  of  the  philosophy  of 
Leibniz. 

The  third  factor,  and  that  which  brings  Leibniz 
nearer,  perhaps,  our  own  day  than  either  of  the  oth- 
ers, is  the  growth  of  physiological  science.  Swam- 
merdam, Malpighi,  Leewenhoek,  — these  are  names 
which  occur  and  recur  in  the  pages  of  Leibniz. 
Indeed,  he  appears  to  be  the  first  of  that  now  long 
line  of  modern  philosophers  to  be  profoundly  influ- 
enced by  the  conception  of  life  and  the  categories 
of  organic  growth.  Descartes  concerned  himself 
indeed  with  physiological  problems,  but  it  was  only 
with  a view  to  applying  mechanical  principles.  The 
idea  of  the  vital  unity  of  all  organs  of  the  body 
might  seem  to  be  attractive  to  one  filled  with  the 
notion  of  the  unity  of  all  in  God,  and  yet  Spinoza 
shows  no  traces  of  the  influence  of  the  organic 
conception.  Not  until  Kant’s  famous  definition  of 
organism  do  we  see  another  philosopher  moved  by 
3 


34  Leibniz’s  new  essays. 

an  attempt  to  comprehend  the  categories  of  living 
structure. 

But  it  is  the  idea  of  organism,  of  life,  which  is 
radical  to  the  thought  of  Leibniz.  I do  not  think, 
however,  that  it  can  truly  be  said  that  he  was  led  to 
the  idea  simply  from  the  state  of  physiological  in- 
vestigation at  that  time.  Rather,  lie  had  already 
learned  to  think  of  the  world  as  organic  through 
and  through,  and  found  in  the  results  of  biology 
confirmations,  apt  illustrations  of  a truth  of  which 
lie  was  already  thoroughly  convinced.  His  writings 
show  that  there  were  two  aspects  of  biological  sci- 
ence which  especially  interested  him.  One  was  the 
simple  fact  of  organism  itself,  — the  fact  of  the  va- 
rious activities  of  different  organs  occurring  in  com- 
plete harmony  for  one  end.  This  presented  three 
notions  very  dear  to  the  mind  of  Leibniz,  or  rather 
three  moments  of  the  same  idea,  — the  factors  of 
activity,  of  unity  brought  about  by  co-ordinated 
action,  and  of  an  end  which  reveals  the  meaning  of 
the  activity  and  is  the  ideal  expression  of  the  unity. 
The  physiologists  of  that  day  were  also  occupied 
with  the  problem  of  growth.  The  generalization 
that  all  is  developed  ab  ovo  was  just  receiving  uni- 
versal attention.  The  question  which  thrust  itself 
upon  science  for  solution  was  the  mode  by  which  ova, 
apparently  homogeneous  in  structure,  developed 
into  the  various  forms  of  the  organic  kingdom. 
The  answer  given  was  “ evolution.”  But  evo- 
lution had  not  the  meaning  which  the  term  has 
to-day.  B\'  evolution  was  meant  that  the  whole 


THE  SOURCES  OF  Ills  PHILOSOPHY. 


35 


complex  structure  of  man,  for  example,  was  vir- 
tually contained  in  the  germ,  and  that  the  apparent 
phenomenon  of  growth  was  not  the  addition  of  any- 
thing from  without,  but  simply  the  unfolding  and 
magnifying  pf  that  already  existing.  It  was  the 
doctrine  which  afterwards  gave  way  to  the  epigen- 
esis theory  of  Wolff,  according  to  which  growth  is 
not  mere  unfolding  or  unwrapping,  but  progressive 
differentiation.  The  “evolution”  theory  was  the 
scientific  theory  of  the  times,  however,  and  was 
warmly  espoused  by  Leibniz.  To  him,  as  we  shall 
see  hereafter,  it  seemed  to  give  a key  which  would 
unlock  one  of  the  problems  of  the  universe. 

Such,  then,  were  the  three  chief  generalizations 
which  Leibniz  found  current,  and  which  most  deeply 
affected  him.  But  what  use  did  he  make  of  them? 
He  did  not  become  a philosopher  by  letting  them 
lie  dormant  in  his  mind,  nor  by  surrendering  him- 
self passively  to  them  till  he  could  mechanically 
-apply  them  everywhere.  He  was  a philosopher 
only  in  virtue  of  the  active  attitude  which  his  mind 
took  towards  them.  He  could  not  simply  accept 
them  at  their  face-value ; he  must  ask  after  the 
source  of  their  value,  the  royal  stamp  of  meaning 
which  made  them  a circulatory  medium.  That  is  to 
say,  he  had  to  interpret  these  ideas,  to  see  what 
they  mean,  and  what  is  the  basis  of  their  validity. 

Not  many  men  have  been  so  conscious  of  just  the 
bearings  of  their  own  ideas-  and  of  their  source  as 
was  he.  He  often  allows  us  a direct  glimpse  into 
the  method  of  his  thinking,  and  nowhere  more  than 


36 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


when  he  says:  “Those  who  give  themselves  up  to 
the  details  of  science  usually  despise  abstract  and 
general  researches.  Those  who  go  into  universal 
principles  rarely  care  for  particular  facts.  But  I 
equally  esteem  both.”  Leibniz,  in  other  words,  was 
equally  interested  in  the  application  of  scientific 
principles  to  the  explanation  of  the  details  of  nat- 
ural phenomena,  and  in  the  bearing  and  meaning  of 
the  principles  themselves,  — a rare  combination,  in- 
deed, but  one,  which  existing,  stamps  the  genuine 
philosopher.  Leibniz  substantially  repeats  this  idea 
when  he  says:  “Particular  effects  must  be  ex- 
plained mechanically  ; but  the  general  principles  of 
physics  and  mathematics  depend  upon  metaphy- 
sics.” And  again  : “All  occurs  mechanically  ; but 
the  mechanical  principle  is  not  to  lie  explained  from 
material  aud  mathematical  considerations,  but  it 
flows  from  a higher  and  a metaphysical  source.” 

As  a man  of  science,  Leibniz  might  have  stopped 
short  with  the  ideas  of  mechanical  law,  of  the  ap- 
plication of  mathematics,  and  of  the  continuity  of 
development.  As  a philosopher  he  could  not. 
There  are  some  scientific  men  to  whom  it  always 
seems  a perversion  of  their  principles  to  attempt  to 
carry  them  any  beyond  their  application  to  the  de- 
tails of  the  subject.  They  look  on  in  a bewildered 
aud  protesting  attitude  when  there  is  suggested  the 
necessity  of  any  further  inquiry.  Or  perhaps  they 
dogmatically  deny  the  possibility  of  any  such  inves- 
tigation, and  as  dogmatically  assume  the  sufficiency 
of  their  principles  for  the  decision  of  all  possible 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


37 


problems.  But  bewildered  fear  and  dogmatic  as- 
sertion are  equally  impotent  to  fix  arbitrary  limits 
to  human  thought.  Wherever  there  is  a subject 
that  has  meaning,  there  is  a field  which  appeals  to 
mind,  and  the  mind  will  not  cease  its  endeavors  till 
it  has  made  out  what  that  meaning  is,  and  lias  made 
it  out  in  its  entirety.  So  the  three  principles  already 
spoken  of  were  but  the  starting-points,  the  stepping- 
stones  of  Leibniz’s  philosophic  thought.  While  to 
physical  science  they  are  solutions,  to  philosophy 
they  are  problems  ; and  as  such  Leibniz  recognized 
them.  What  solution  did  he  give? 

So  far  as  the  principle  of  mechanical  explanation 
is  concerned,  the  clew  is  given  by  considering  the 
factor  upon  which  he  laid  most  emphasis,  namely, 
motion.  Descartes  had  said  that  the  essence  of  the 
physical  world  is  extension.  “ Not  so,”  replied 
Leibniz  ; “ it  is  motion.”  These  answers  mark  two 
typical  ways  of  regarding  nature.  According  to 
one,  nature  is  something  essentially  rigid  and  static  : 
whatever  change  in  it  occurs,  is  a change  of  form, 
of  arrangement,  an  external  modification.  Accord- 
ing to  the  other,  nature  is  something  essentially 
dynamic  and  active.  Change  according  to  law  is 
its  very  essence.  Form,  arrangement  are  only  the 
results  of  this  internal  principle.  And  so  to  Leibniz, 
extension  and  the  spatial  aspects  of  physical  exis- 
tence were  only  secondary,  they  were  phenomenal. 
The  primary,  the  real  fact  was  motion. 

The  considerations  which  led  him  to  this  conclu- 
sion are  simple  enough.  It  is  the  fact  already  men- 


38 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


tioned,  that  explanation  always  consists  in  reducing 
phenomena  to  a law  of  motion  which  connects  them. 
Descartes  himself  had  not  succeeded  in  writing  his 
physics  without  everywhere  using  the  conception  of 
motion.  But  motion  cannot  be  got  out  of  the  idea 
of  extension.  Geometry  will  not  give  us  activity. 
What  is  this,  except  virtually  to  admit  the  insuffi- 
ciency of  purely  statical  conceptions?  Leibniz  found 
himself  confirmed  in  this  position  by  the  fact  that 
the  more  logical  of  the  followers  of  Descartes  had 
recognized  that  motion  is  a superfluous  intruder,  if 
extension  be  indeed  the  essence  of  matter,  and  there- 
fore had  been  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the  imme- 
diate activity  of  God  as  the  cause  of  all  changes. 
But  this,  as  Leibniz  said,  was  simply  to  give  up 
the  very  idea  of  mechanical  explanation,  and  to 
fall  back  into  the  purely  general  explanations  of 
scholasticism. 

This  is  not  the  place  for  a detailed  exposition  of 
the  ideas  of  Leibniz  regarding  matter,  motion,  and 
extension.  We  need  here  only  recognize  that  he 
saw  in  motion  the  final  reality  of  the  physical  uni- 
verse. But  what  about  motion?  To  many,  perhaps 
the  majority,  of  minds  to-day  it  seems  useless  or 
absurd,  or  both,  to  ask  any  question  about  motion. 
It  is  simply  an  ultimate  fact,  to  which  all  other  facts 
are  to  be  reduced.  We  are  so  familiar  with  it  as  a 
solution  of  all  physical  problems  that  we  are  con- 
fused, and  fail  to  recognize  it  when  it  appears  in 
the  guise  of  a problem.  But,  I repeat,  philosophy 
cannot  stop  with  facts,  however  ultimate.  It  must 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


39 


* 

also  know  something  about  the  meaning,  the  siguifi- 
cance,  in  short  the  ideal  bearing,  of  facts.  From 
the  point  of  view  of  philosophy,  motion  has  a cer- 
tain function  in  the  economy  of  the  universe  ; it  is, 
as  Aristotle  saw,  something  ideal. 

The  name  of  Aristotle  suggests  the  ^principles 
which  guided  Leibniz  in  his  interpretation  of  the 
fact  of  motion.  The  thought  of  Aristotle  moves 
about  the  two  poles  of  potentiality  and  actuality. 
Potentiality  is  not  mere  capacity ; it  is  being  in  an 
undeveloped,  imperfect  stage.  Actuality  is,  as  the 
word  suggests,  activity.  Anything  is  potential  in 
so  far  as  it  does  not  manifest  itself  in  action  ; it  is 
actual  so  far  as  it  does  thus  show  forth  its  being. 
Now,  movement,  or  change  in  its  most  general  sense, 
is  that  by  which  the  potential  comes  to  the  realiza- 
tion of  its  nature,  and  functions  as  an  activity. 
Motion,  then,  is  not  an  ultimate  fact,  but  is  subor- 
dinate. It  exists  for  an  end.  It  is  that  by  which 
existence  realizes  its  idea ; that  is,  its  proper  type 
of  action. 

Now  Leibniz  does  not  formally  build  upon  these 
distinctions  ; and  yet  he  is  not  very  far  removed 
from  Aristotle.  Motion,  he  is  never  weary  of  re- 
peating, means  force,  means  energy,  means  activity. 
To  say  that  the  essence  of  nature  is  motion,  is  to 
say  that  the  natural  world  finally  introduces  us  to 
the  supremacy  of  action.  Reality  is  activity.  Sub- 
stance c'est  V action.  That  is  the  key-note  and  the 
battle-cry  of  the  Leibnizian  philosophy.  Motion  is 
that  by  which  being  expresses  its  nature,  fulfils  its 


40 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


purpose,  reveals  its  idea.  In  short,  the  specific 
scientific  conception  of  motion  is  by  Leibniz  trans- 
formed into  the  philosophic  conception  of  force,  of 
activity.  In  motion  he  sees  evidence  of  the  fact 
that  the  universe  is  radically  dynamic. 

In  the  applicability  of  mathematics  to  the  inter- 
pretation of  nature  Leibniz  finds  witness  to  the 
continuity  and  order  of  the  world.  We  have  be- 
come so  accustomed  to  the  fact  that  mathematics 
may  be  directly  employed  for  the  discussion  and 
formulation  of  physical  investigations  that  we  for- 
get what  is  implied  in  it.  It  involves  the  huge  as- 
sumption that  the  world  answers  to  reason  ; so  that 
whatever  the  mind  finds  to  be  ideally  true  may  be 
taken  for  granted  to  be  physically  true  also.  But 
in  those  days,  when  the  correlation  of  the  laws  of 
the  world  and  the  laws  of  mathematical  reasoning 
was  a fresh  discovery,  this  aspect  of  the  case  could 
not  be  easily  lost  sight  of. 

In  fact  it  was  this  correlation  which  filled  the 
Zeitgeist  of  the  sixteenth  century  with  the  idea  that 
it  had  a new  organ  for  the  penetration  of  nature,  a 
new  sense  for  learning  its  meaning.  Descartes  gives 
the  following  as  the  origin  of  his  philosophy  : “ The 
long  chains  of  simple  and  easy  reasons  which  geom- 
eters employ,  even  in  their  most  complex  demon- 
strations, made  me  fancy  that  all  things  which  are 
the  objects  of  human  knowledge  are  similarly  inter- 
dependentTo  Leibniz  also  mathematics  seemed 
to  give  a clew  to  the  order,  the  interdependence,  the 
harmonious  relations,  of  the, world. 


THE  SOURCES  OF  HIS  PHILOSOPHY. 


41 


In  tliis  respect  the  feeling  of  Plato  that  God 
geometrizes  found  an  echoing  response  in  Leibniz. 
But  the  latter  would  hardly  have  expressed  it  iu  the 
same  way.  He  would  have  preferred  to  say  that 
God  everywhere  uses  the  infinitesimal  calculus.  In 
the  applicability  of  the  calculus  to  the  discussion 
of  physical  facts,  Leibniz  saw  two  truths  reflected, 
— that  everything  that  occurs  has  its  reason,  its 
dependent  connection  upon  something  else,  and  that 
all  is  continuous  and  without  breaks.  While  the 
formal  principles  of  his  logic  are  those  of  identity 
and  contradiction,  his  real  principles  are  those  of 
sufficient  reason  and  of  continuity.  Nature  never 
makes  leaps  ; everything  in  nature  has  a sufficient 
reason  why  it  is  as  it  is  : these  are  the  philosophic 
generalizations  which  Leibniz  finds  hidden  in  the 
applicability  of  mathematics  to  physical  science. 
Reason  finds  itself  everywhere  expressed  in  na- 
ture ; and  the  law  of  reason  is  unity  in  diversity, 
continuity. 

Let  us  say,  in  a word,  that  the  correlation  between 
the  laws  of  mathematics  and  of  physics  is  the  evi- 
dence of  the  rational  character  of  nature.  Nature 
may  be  reduced  to  motions  ; and  motions  can  be 
understood  only  as  force,  activity.  But  the  laws 
which  connect  motions  are  fundamentally  mathe- 
matical laws, — laws  of  reason.  Hence  force,  ac- 
tivity, can  be  understood  only  as  rational,  as 
spiritual.  Nature  is  thus  seen  to  mean  Activity, 
and  Activity  is  seen  to  mean  Intelligence.  Further- 
more, as  the  fundamental  law  of  intelligence  is  the 


42 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


production  of  difference  in  unity,  the  primary  law 
of  physical  change  must  be  the  manifestation  of  this 
unity  in  difference, — or,  as  Leibniz  interpreted  it, 
continuity.  In  nature  there  are  no  breaks,  neither 
of  quantity  nor  of  quality  nor  of  relationship.  The 
full  force  of  this  law  we  shall  see  later. 

Such  an  idea  can  hardly  be  distinguished  from 
the  idea  of  growth  or  development ; one  passes 
naturally  into  the  other.  Thus  it  is  equally  proper 
to  say  that  the  third  scientific  influence,  the  concep- 
tion of  organism  and  growth,  is  dominant  in  the 
Leibnizian  thought,  or  that  this  is  swallowed  up 
and  absorbed  in  the  grand  idea  of  continuity.  The 
law  of  animal  and  vegetable  life  and  the  law  of  the 
universe  are  identified.  The  substance  of  the  uni- 
verse is  activity  ; the  law  of  the  universe  is  inter- 
dependence. What  is  this  but  to  say  that  the 
universe  is  an  organic  whole?  Its  activity  is  the 
manifestation  of  life,  — nay,  it  is  life.  The  laws  of 
its  activity  reveal  that  continuity  of  development, 
that  harmony  or  inter-relation,  which  are  everywhere 
the  marks  of  life.  The  final  and  fundamental  notion, 
therefore,  by  which  Leibniz  interprets  the  laws  of 
physics  and  mathematics  is  that  of  Life.  This  is 
his  regnant  category.  It  is  “ that  higher  and  meta- 
physical source  ” from  which  the  very  existence  and 
principles  of  mechanism  flow.  The  perpetual  and 
ubiquitous  presence  of  motion  reveals  the  pulsations 
of  Life  ; the  correlation,  the  rationality,  of  these 
motions  indicate  the  guiding  presence  of  Life.  This 
idea  is  the  alpha  and  omega  of  his  philosophy. 


THE  FROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION.  43 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 
EIBNIZ,  like  every  great  man,  absorbed  into 


himself  the  various  thoughts  of  his  time, 
and  in  absorbing  transformed  them.  He  brought 
into  a focus  of  brilliancy  the  diffused  lights  of 
truth  shining  here  and  there.  He  summed  up  in  a 
pregnant  and  comprehensive  category  the  scattered 
principles  of  his  age.  Yet  we  are  not  to  suppose 
that  Leibniz  considered  these  various  ideas  one  by 
one,  and  then  patched  them  into  an  artificial  unity 
of  thought.  Philosophies  are  not  manufactured 
piecemeal  out  of  isolated  and  fragmentary  thoughts  ; 
they  grow  from  a single  root,  absorbing  from  their 
environment  whatever  of  sustenance  offers  itself, 
and  maturing  in  one  splendid  fruit  of  spiritual 
truth.  It  is  convenient,  indeed,  to  isolate  various 
phases  of  truth,  and  consider  them  as  distinct 
forces  working  to  shape  one  final  product,  and  as  a 
convenient  artifice  it  is  legitimate.  But  it  answers 
to  no  process  actually  occurring.  Leibniz  never 
surrendered  his  personal  unity,  and  out  of  some 
one  root-conception  grew  all  his  ideas.  The  prin- 
ciples of  his  times  were  not  separate  forces  acting 
upon  him,  they  were  the  foods  of  which  he  selected 


44 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


and  assimilated  such  as  were  fitted  to  nourish  his 
one  great  conception. 

But  it  is  more  than  a personal  unity  which  holds 
together  the  thinking  of  a philosopher.  There  is 
the  unity  of  the  problem,  which  the  philosopher 
has  always  before  him,  and  in  which  all  particular 
ideas  find  their  unity.  All  else  issues  from  this 
and  merges  into  it.  The  various  influences  which 
we  have  seen  affecting  Leibniz,  therefore,  got  their 
effectiveness  from  the  relation  which  he  saw  them 
bear  to  the  final  problem  of  all  thought.  This  is 
the  inquiry  after  the  unity  of  experience,  if  we 
look  at  it  from  the  side  of  the  subject ; the  unity 
of  reality,  if  we  put  it  from  the  objective  side. 
Yet  each  age  states  this  problem  in  its  own  way, 
because  it  sees  it  in  the  light  of  some  difficulty 
which  has  recently  arisen  in  consciousness.  At 
one  time,  the  question  is  as  to  the  relation  of  the 
one  to  the  many ; at  another,  of  the  relation  of 
the  sensible  to  the  intelligible  world  ; at  another, 
of  the  relation  of  the  individual  to  the  universal. 
And  this  last  seems  to  have  been  the  way  in  which 
it  specifically  presented  itself  to  Leibniz.  This 
way  of  stating  it  was  developed,  though  apparently 
without  adequate  realization  of  its  meaning,  by 
the  philosophy  of  scholasticism.  It  stated  the 
problem  as  primarily  a logical  question,  — the  re- 
lation of  genera,  of  species,  of  individuals  to  each 
other.  And  the  school-boy,  made  after  the  stamp 
of  literary  tradition,  knows  that  there  were  two 
parties  among  the  Schoolmen,  — the  Realists,  and 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


45 


the  Nominalists  ; one  asserting,  the  other  denying, 
the  objective  reality  of  universals.  To  regard  this 
discussion  as  useless,  is  to  utter  the  condemnation  of 
philosophy,  and  to  relegate  the  foundation  of  sci- 
ence to  the  realm  of  things  not  to  be  inquired  into. 
To  say  that  it  is  an  easy  matter  to  decide,  is  to  as- 
sume the  decision  with  equal  ease  of  all  the  prob- 
lems that  have  vexed  the  thought  of  humanity.  To 
us  it  seems  easy  because  we  have  bodily  incor- 
porated into  our  thinking  the  results  of  both  the 
realistic  and  the  nominalistic  doctrines,  without  at- 
tempting to  reconcile  them,  or  even  being  conscious 
of  the  necessity  of  reconciliation.  We  assert  in 
one  breath  that  the  individual  is  alone  real,  and  in 
the  next  assert  that  only  those  forms  of  conscious- 
ness which  represent  something  in  the  universe  are 
to  be  termed  knowledge.  At  one  moment  we  say 
that  universals  are  creations  of  the  individual  mind, 
and  at  the  next  pass  on  to  talk  of  laws  of  nature, 
or  even  of  a reign  of  law.  In  other  words,  we  have 
learned  to  regard  both  the  individual  and  the  uni- 
versal as  real,  and  thus  ignoring  the  problem,  think 
we  have  solved  it. 

But  to  Leibniz  the  problem  presented  itself  neither 
as  a logical  question,  nor  yet  as  one  whose  solution 
might  be  taken  for  granted.  On  the  contrary,  it 
was  just  this  question  : How  shall  we  conceive  the 
individual  to  be  related  to  the  universe?  which 
seemed  to  him  to  be  the  nerve  of  the  philosophic 
problem,  the  question  rvhose  right  answer  would 
solve  the  problems  of  religion,  of  morals,  of  the 


46 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


basis  of  science,  as  well  as  of  the  nature  of  reality. 
The  importance  of  just  this  way  of  putting  the 
question  had  been  rendered  evident  by  the  prede- 
cessors and  contemporaries  of  Leibniz,  especially  by 
Descartes,  Spinoza,  and  Locke.  His  more  specific 
relations  to  the  last-named  will  occupy  us  hereafter  ; 
at  present  we  must  notice  how  the  question  stood 
at  the  hands  of  Descartes  and  Spinoza. 

Descartes  had  separated  the  individual  from  the 
universal.  Ilis  philosophy  began  and  ended  with 
a dualism.  I have  just  said  that  the  problem  of  phi- 
losophy is  the  unity  of  experience.  Yet  we  find  that 
there  have  been  thinkers,  and  those  of  the  first  rank, 
who  have  left  the  matter  without  discovering  any 
ultimate  unity,  or  rather  who  have  made  it  the  bur- 
den of  their  contention  that  we  cannot  explain  the 
world  without  at  least  two  disparate  principles.  But 
if  we  continue  to  look  at  the  matter  in  this  historical 
way,  we  shall  see  that  this  dualism  has  always  been 
treated  by  the  successors  of  such  a philosopher,  not 
as  a solution,  but  as  a deeper  statement  of  the  prob- 
lem. It  is  the  function  of  dualistic  philosophies  to 
re-state  the  question  in  a new  and  more  significant 
way.  There  are  times  when  the  accepted  unity  of 
thought  is  seen  to  be  inadequate  aud  superficial. 
Men  are  thrashing  old  straw,  and  paying  themselves 
with  ideas  which  have  lost  their  freshness  and  their 
timeliness.  There  then  arises  a philosopher  who 
goes  deep,  beyond  the  superficial  unity,  and  who 
discovers  the  untouched  problem.  Ilis  it  is  to  assert 
the  true  meaning  of  the  question,  which  has  been 


47 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 

unseen  or  evaded.  The  attitude  of  dualism  is  thus 
always  necessary,  but  never  final.  Its  value  is  not 
in  any  solution,  but  in  the  generality  and  depth  of  the 
problem  which  it  proposes,  and  which  incites  thought 
to  the  discovery  of  a unity  of  equal  depth  and  com- 
prehensiveness. 

Except  for  Descartes,  then,  we  should  not  be  con- 
scious of  the  gulf  that  yawns  between  the  individual 
mind  and  the  universe  in  front  of  it.  He  presented 
the  opposition  as  between  mind  and  matter.  The 
essence  of  the  former  is  thought ; of  the  latter,  ex- 
tension. The  conceptions  are  disparate  and  opposed. 
No  interaction  is  possible.  His  disciples,  more 
consistent  than  their  master,  called  in  a deus  ex 
machina , — the  miraculous  intervention  of  God, — 
in  order  to  account  for  the  appearance  of  recipro- 
cal action  between  the  universe  of  matter  and  the 
thinking  individual.  Thus  they  in  substance  ad- 
mitted the  relation  between  them  to  be  scientifically 
inexplicable,  and  had  recourse  to  the  supernatural. 
The  individual  does  not  act  upon  the  universe  to 
produce,  destroy,  or  alter  the  arrangement  of  any- 
thing. But  upon  the  occasion  of  his  volition  God 
produces  a corresponding  material  change.  The 
world  does  not  act  upon  the  soul  of  the  individual 
to  produce  thoughts  or  sensations.  God,  upon  oc- 
casion of  the  external  affection,  brings  them  into 
being.  With  such  thoroughness  Descartes  per- 
formed his  task  of  separation.  Yet  the  introduction 
of  the  deus  ex  macliina  only  complicated  the  prob- 
lem ; it  introduced  a third  l'actoi^  -where  two  were 


48 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


already  too  many.  What  is  the  relation  of  God  to 
Mind  and  to  Matter?  Is  it  simply  a third  somewhat, 
equally  distinct  from  both,  or  does  it  contain  both 
within  itself? 

Spinoza  attempted  to  solve  the  problem  in  the 
latter  sense.  He  conceived  God  to  be  the  one  sub- 
stance of  the  universe,  possessing  the  two  known 
attributes  of  thought  and  matter.  These  attributes 
are  one  in  God  ; indeed,  he  is  their  unity.  This  is 
the  sole  legitimate  outcome  of  the  Cartesian  prob- 
lem stated  as  Descartes  would  have  it  stated.  It 
overcomes  the  absoluteness-  of  the  dualism  by  dis- 
covering a common  and  fundamental  unity,  and  at 
the  same  time  takes  the  subject  out  of  the  realm 
of  the  miraculous.  For  the  solution  works  both 
ways.  It  affects  the  nature  of  God,  as  well  as  of 
extension  and  thought.  It  presents  him  to  us, 
not  as  a supernatural  being,  but  as  the  unity  of 
thought  and  extension.  In  knowing  these  as  they 
are,  we  know  God  as  he  is.  Spinoza,  in  other 
words,  uses  the  conception  of  God  in  a different 
way  from  the  Cartesians.  The  latter  had  treated 
him  as  the  God  of  theology,  — a being  supernatu- 
ral ; Spinoza  uses  the  conception  as  a scientific 
one,  and  speaks  of  Deus  sire  Natura. 

Leibniz  recognized  the  unpliilosophic  character 
of  the  recourse  to  a deus  ex  machina  as  clearly  as 
Spinoza,  and  yet  did  not  accept  his  solution.  To 
find  out  why  he  did  not  is  the  problem  of  the  his- 
torian of  thought.  The  one  cause  which  stands  out 
above  all  others  is  that  in  the  unity  of  Spinoza  all 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION.  49 

difference,  all  distinction,  is  lost.  All  particular 
existences,  whether  things  or  persons,  are  modes  of 
extension  and  thought.  Their  apparent  existence 
is  due  to  the  imagination,  which  is  the  source  of  be- 
lief in  particular  things.  'When  considered  as  they 
really  are,  — that  is,  by  the  understanding,  — they 
vanish.  The  one  substance,  with  its  two  unchanging 
attributes  of  thought  and  extension,  alone  remains. 
If  it  is  a philosophic  error  to  give  a solution  which 
permits  of  no  unity,  is  it  not  equally  a philosophic 
error  to  give  one  which  denies  difference?  So  it 
seemed  to  Leibniz.  The  problem  is  to  reconcile 
difference  in  unity,  not  to  swallow  up  difference  in 
a blank  oneness,  — to  reconcile  the  individual  with 
the  universe,  not  to  absorb  him. 

The  unsatisfactoriness  of  the  solution  appears 
if  we  look  at  it  from  another  side.  Difference 
implies  change,  while  a unity  in  which  all  variety 
is  lost  implies  quiescence.  Change  is  as  much  an 
illusion  of  imagination  to  Spinoza  as  is  variety. 
The  One  Reality  is  permanent.  IIow  repugnant  the 
conception  of  a static  universe  was  to  Leibniz  we 
have  already  learned.  Spinoza  fails  to  satisfy 
Leibniz,  therefore,  because  he  does  not  allow  the 
conceptions  of  individuality  and  of  activity.  He 
presents  a unity  in  which  all  distinction  of  indi- 
viduals is  lost,  and  in  which  there  is  no  room  for 
change.  But  Spinoza  certainly  presented  the  prob- 
lem more  clearly  to  Leibniz,  and  revealed  more 
definitely  the  conditions  of  its  solution.  The  search 
is  henceforth  for  a unity  which  shall  avoid  the  irre- 
4 


50 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


solvable  dualism  of  Descartes,  and  yet  shall  allow 
free  play  to  the  principles  of  individuality  and  of 
activity.  There  must  be,  in  short,  a universe  to 
which  the  individual  bears  a real  yet  independent 
relation.  What  is  this  unity?  The  answer,  in  the 
phraseology  of  Leibniz,  is  the  monad.  Spinoza 
would  be  right,  said  Leibniz,  were  it  not  for  the 
existence  of  monads.  I know  there  are  some  who 
have  done  Leibniz  the  honor  of  supposing  that  this 
is  his  way  of  saying,  “ Spinoza  is  wrong  because 
I am  right ; ” but  1 cannot  help  thinking  that  the 
saying  has  a somewhat  deeper  meaning.  What, 
then,  is  the  nature  of  the  monad?  The  answer  to 
this  question  takes  us  back  to  the  point  where  the 
discussion  of  the  question  was  left  at  the  end  of 
chapter  second.  The  nature  of  the  monad  is  life. 
The  monad  is  the  spiritual  activity  which  lives  in 
absolute  harmony  with  an  infinite  number  of  other 
monads. 

Let  us  first  consider  the  reasons  of  Leibniz  for 
conceiving  the  principle  of  unity  as  spiritual.  Pri- 
marily it  is  because  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a 
unity  which  is  material.  In  the  sensible  world  there 
is  no  unity.  There  are,  indeed,  aggregations,  col- 
lections, which  seem  like  unities  ; but  the  very  fact 
that  these  are  aggregations  shows  that  the  unity  is 
factitious.  It  is  the  very  nature  of  matter  to  be  in- 
finitely divisible  : to  say  this  is  to  deny  the  existence 
of  any  true  principle  of  unity.  The  world  of  nature 
is  the  world  of  space  and  time  ; and  where  in  space 
or  time  shall  we  find  a unity  where  we  may  rest? 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


51 


Every  point  in  space,  every  moment  in  time,  points 
beyond  itself.  It  refers  to  a totality  of  which  it  is 
but  a part,  or,  rather,  a limitation.  If  we  add  re- 
sistance, we  are  not  better  situated.  We  have  to 
think  of  something  which  resists  ; and  to  this  some- 
thing we  must  attribute  extension,  — that  is  to  say, 
difference,  plurality.  Nor  can  we  find  any  resistance 
which  is  absolute  and  final.  There  may  be  a body 
which  is  undivided,  and  which  resists  all  energy  now 
acting  upon  it ; but  we  cannot  frame  an  intelligible 
idea  of  a body  which  is  absolutely  indivisible.  To 
do  so  is  to  think  of  a body  out  of  all  relation  to  exist- 
ing forces,  something  absolutely  isolated  ; while  the 
forces  of  nature  are  always  relative  to  one  another. 
That  which  resists  does  so  in  comparison  with  some 
opposing  energy.  The  absolutely  indivisible,  on 
the  other  hand,  would  be  that  which  could  not  be 
brought  into  comparison  with  other  forces  ; it  would 
not  have  any  of  the  attributes  of  force  as  we  know 
it.  In  a word,  whatever  exists  in  nature  is  relative 
in  space,  in  time,  and  in  qualities  to  all  else.  It  is 
made  what  it  is  by  virtue  of  the  totality  of  its  rela- 
tions to  the  universe  ; it  has  no  ultimate  principle  of 
self-subsistent  unity  in  it. 

Nor  do  we  fare  better  if  we  attempt  to  find 
unity  in  the  world  of  nature  as  a whole.  Nature 
has  its  existence  as  a whole  in  space  and  time.  In- 
deed, it  is  only  a way  of  expressing  the  totality  of 
phenomena  of  space  and  time.  It  is  a mere  aggre- 
gate, a collection.  Its  very  essence  is  plurality, 
difference.  It  is  divisible  without  limit,  and  each 


52 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


of  its  divisions  has  as  good  a right  to  be  called  one 
as  the  whole  from  which  it  is  broken  off.  We  shall 
consider  hereafter  Leibniz’s  idea  of  infinity  ; but  it 
is  easy  to  see  that  he  must  deny  any  true  infinity  to 
nature.  An  ultimate  whole  made  up  of  parts  is  a 
contradictory  conception  ; and  the  idea  of  a quanti- 
tative infinite  is  equally  so.  Quantity  means  number, 
measure,  limitation.  W e may  not  be  able  to  assign 
number  to  the  totality  of  occurrences  in  nature,  nor 
to  measure  her  every  event.  This  shows  that  nature 
is  indefinitely  greater  than  any  assignable  quantity  ; 
but  it  does  not  remove  her  from  the  category  of 
quantity.  As  long  as  the  world  is  conceived  as 
that  existing  in  space  and  time,  it  is  conceived  as 
that  which  has  to  be  measured.  As  we  saw  in  the 
last  chapter,  the  heart  of  the  mechanical  theory  of 
the  world  is  in  the  application  of  mathematics  to  it. 
Since  quantity  and  mathematics  are  correlative  terms, 
the  natural  world  cannot  be  conceived  as  infinite  or 
as  an  ultimate  unity. 

In  short,  Leibniz  urges  and  suggests  in  one  form 
and  another  those  objections  to  the  mechanical 
theory  of  reality  which  later  German  philosophers 
have  made  us  so  familiar  with.  The  objections  are 
indeed  varied  in  statement,  but  they  all  come  to  the 
impossibility  of  finding  any  unity,  any  wholeness, 
anything  except  plurality  and  partiality  in  that 
which  is  externally  conditioned,  — as  everything  is 
in  nature. 

But  the  reasons  as  thus  stated  are  rather  negative 
than  positive.  They  show  why  the  ultimate  unity 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


53 


cannot  be  conceived  as  material,  rather  than  why  it 
must  be  conceived  as  spiritual.  The  immediate  evi- 
dence of  its  spiritual  nature  Leibniz  finds  in  the 
perception  of  the  one  unity  directly  known  to  us,  — 
the  “ me,”  the  conscious  principle  within,  which  re- 
veals itself  as  an  active  force,  and  as  truly  one,  since 
not  a spatial  or  temporal  existence.  And  this  evi- 
dence he  finds  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  whatever 
unity  material  phenomena  appear  to  have  comes  to 
them  through  their  perception  by  the  soul.  What- 
ever the  mind  grasps  in  one  act,  is  manifested  as 
one. 

But  it  is  not  in  any  immediate  certainty  of  fact 
that  Leibniz  finds  the  best  or  completest  demonstra- 
tion of  the  spiritual  nature  of  the  ultimate  unity. 
This  is  found  in  the  use  which  can  be  made  of  the 
hypothesis.  The  truest  witness  to  the  spiritual 
character  of  reality  is  found  in  the  capacity  of  this 
principle  to  comprehend  and  explain  the  facts  of  ex- 
perience. With  this  conception  the  reason  of  things 
can  be  ascertained,  and  light  introduced  into  what 
were  otherwise  a confused  obscurity.  And,  indeed, 
this  is  the  only  sufficient  proof  of  an}r  doctrine.  It 
is  not  what  comes  before  the  formulation  of  a theory 
which  proves  it ; it  is  not  the  facts  which  suggest 
it,  or  the  processes  which  lead  up  to  it : it  is  what 
comes  after  the  formation  of  the  theory,  — the  uses 
that  it  can  be  put  to  ; the  facts  which  it  will  render 
significant.  The  whole  philosophy  of  Leibniz  in  its 
simplicity,  width,  and  depth,  is  the  real  evidence  of 
the  truth  of  his  philosophical  principle. 


54 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


The  monad,  then,  is  a spiritual  unity  ; it  is  individ- 
ualized life.  Unity,  activity,  individuality,  are  syn- 
onymous terms  in  the  vocabulary  of  Leibniz.  Every 
unity  is  a true  substance,  containing  within  itself  the 
source  and  law  of  its  own  activity.  It  is  that  which 
is  internally  determined  to  action.  It  is  to  be  con- 
ceived after  the  analogy  of  the  soul.  It  is  an  indi- 
visible unity,  like  “ that  particular  something  in  us 
which  thinks,  apperceives  and  wills,  and  distin- 
guishes us  in  a way  of  its  own  from  whatever  else 
thinks  and  wills.”  Against  Descartes,  therefore, 
Leibniz  stands  for  the  principle  of  unity  ; against 
Spinoza,  he  upholds  the  doctrine  of  individuality,  of 
diversity,  of  multiplicity.  And  the  latter  principle 
is  as  important  in  his  thought  as  the  former.  Indeed, 
they  are  inseparable.  The  individual  is  the  true 
unity.  There  is  an  infinite  number  of  these  indi- 
viduals, each  distinct  from  every  other.  The  law 
of  specification,  of  distinction,  runs  through  the 
universe.  Two  beings  cannot  be  alike.  They  are 
not  individualized  merely  by  their  different  positions 
in  space  or  time  ; duration  and  extension,  on  the 
contrary,  are,  as  we  have  seen,  principles  of  rela- 
tivity, of  connection.  Monads  are  specified  by  an 
internal  principle.  Their  distinct  individuality  is 
constituted  by  their  distinct  law  of  activity.  Leibniz 
will  not  have  a philosophy  of  abstract  unity,  repre- 
senting the  universe  as  simple  only,  he  will  have  a 
philosophy  equal  to  the  diversity,  the  manifold  wealth 
of  variety,  in  the  universe.  This  is  only  to  say  that 
he  will  be  faithful  to  his  fundamental  notion,  — that 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


55 


of  Life.  Life  does  not  mean  a simple  unity  like  a 
mathematical  one,  it  means  a unity  which  is  the 
harmony  of  the  interplay  of  diverse  organs,  each 
following  its  own  law  and  having  its  own  function. 
When  Leibniz  says,  God  willed  to  have  more  monads 
rather  than  fewer,  the  expression  is  indeed  one  of 
naivete , but  the  thought  is  one  of  unexplored  depth. 
It  is  the  thought  that  Leibniz  repeats  when  he  says, 
“ Those  who  would  reduce  all  things  to  modifications 
of  one  universal  substance  do  not  have  sufficient  re- 
gard to  the  order,  the  harmony  of  reality.”  Leibniz 
applies  here,  as  everywhere,  the  principle  of  continu- 
ity, which  is  unity  in  and  through  diversity,  not  the 
principle  of  bare  oneness.  There  is  a kingdom  of 
monads,  a realm  truly  infinite,  composed  of  individ- 
ual unities  or  activities  in  an  absolute  continuity. 
Leibniz  was  one  of  the  first,  if  not  the  first,  to  use 
just  the  expression  “uniformity  of  nature;”  but 
even  here  he  explains  that  it  means  “uniform  in 
variety,  one  in  principle,  but  varied  in  manifes- 
tation.” The  world  is  to  be  as  rich  as  possible. 
This  is  simply  to  say  that  distinct  individuality  as 
well  as  ultimate  unity  is  a law  of  reality. 

But  has  not  Leibniz  fallen  into  a perilous  po- 
sition? In  avoiding  the  monotone  of  unity  which 
characterizes  the  thought  of  Spinoza,  has  he  not 
fallen  into  a lawless  variety  of  multiplicity,  infinitely 
less  philosophic  than  even  the  dualism  of  Descartes, 
since  it  has  an  infinity  of  ultimate  principles  instead 
of  only  two?  If  Spinoza  sacrificed  the  individual 
to  the  universe,  has  not  Leibniz,  in  his  desire  to 


56 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


emphasize  the  individual,  gone' to  the  other  extreme? 
Apparently  we  are  introduced  to  a universe  that  is 
a mere  aggregate  of  an  infinite  multiplicity  of 
realities,  each  independent  of  every  other.  Such 
a universe  would  not  be  a universe.  It  would  be 
a chaos  of  disorder  and  conflict.  We  come,  there- 
fore, to  a consideration  of  the  relation  between 
these  individual  monads  and  the  universe.  We 
have  to  discover  what  lifts  the  monads  out  of  their 
isolation  and  bestows  upon  them  that  stamp  of  uni- 
versality which  makes  it  possible  for  them  to  enter 
into  the  coherent  structure  of  reality  : in  a word, 
what  is  the  universal  content  which  the  monad  in 
its  formal  individuality  bears  and  manifests? 

The  way  in  which  the  question  has  just  been 
stated  suggests  the  Leibnizian  answer.  The  mo- 
nad, indeed,  in  its  form  is  thoroughly  individual, 
having  its  own  unique  mode  of  activity  ; but  its 
content,  dhat  which  this  activity  manifests,  is  not 
peculiar  to  it  as  an  individual,  but  is  the  substance 
or  law  of  the  universe.  It  is  the  very  nature  of 
the  monad  to  be  representative.  Its  activity  con- 
sists in  picturing  or  reproducing  those  relations 
which  make  up  the  world  of  reality.  In  a conscious 
soul,  the  ability  thus  to  represent  the  world  is 
called  “perception,”  and  thus  Leibniz  attributes 
perception  to  all  the  monads.  This  is  not  to  be 
understood  as  a conscious  representation  of  reality 
to  itself  (for  this  the  term  “ apperception  ” is  re- 
served), but  it  signifies  that  the  very  essence  of  the 
monad  is  to  produce  states  which  are  not  its  own 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


57 


peculiar  possessions,  but  which  reflect  the  facts  and 
relations  of  the  universe.  Leibniz  never  wearies 
in  finding  new  ways  to  express  this  purely  repre- 
sentative character  of  the  monad.  The  monads  are 
little  souls ; they  are  mirrors  of  the  world ; they 
are  concentrations  of  the  universe,  each  expressing 
it  in  its  own  way;  borrowing  a term  from  scho- 
lasticism, they  are  “ substantial  forms.”  They  are 
substantial,  for  they  are  independent  unities  ; they 
are  forms,  because  the  term  “form”  expresses,  in 
Aristotelian  phraseology,  the  type  or  law  of  some 
class  of  phenomena.  The  monad  is  an  individual, 
but  its  whole  content,  its  objectivity  or  reality,  is 
the  summation  of  the  universe  which  it  represents. 
It  is  individual,  but  whatever  marks  it  as  actual 
is  some  reproduction  of  the  world.  His  recon- 
ciliation of  the  principles  of  individuality  and 
universality  is  contained  in  the  following  words : 
“ Each  monad  contains  within  itself  an  order 
corresponding  to  that  of  the  universe,  — indeed,  the 
monads  represent  the  universe  in  an  infinity  of 
ways,  all  different,  and  all  true,  thus  multiplying 
the  universe  as  many  times  as  is  possible,  approach- 
ing the  divine  as  near  as  may  be,  and  giving  the 
w'orld  all  the  perfection  of  which  it  is  capable.” 
The  monad  is  individual,  for  it  represents  reality  in 
its  own  way,  from  its  own  point  of  view.  It  is 
universal,  for  its  whole  content  is  the  order  of  the 
universe. 

New  light  is  thus  thrown  upon  the  former  state- 
ment that  reality  is  activity,  that  the  measure  of 


58 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


a being  is  the  action  which  it  puts  forth.  That 
statement  is  purely  formal.  It  leaves  the  kind  of 
activity  and  its  law  wholly  undetermined.  But 
this  relation  of  “ representativeness  ” which  we  have 
discovered  gives  definiteness.  It  is  the  law  of  the 
monad’s  action  to  mirror,  to  reflect,  the  universe  ; 
its  changes  follow  each  other  so  as  to  bring  about 
this  reflection  in  the  eompletest  degree  possible. 
The  monad  is  literally  the  many  in  the  one  ; it  is 
the  answer  to  the  inquiry  of  Greek  philosophy. 
The  many  are  not  present  by  way  of  participation 
in  some  underlying  essence,  not  yet  as  statically 
possessed  by  the  one,  as  attributes  are  sometimes 
supposed  to  inhere  in  a substratum.  The  “ many” 
is  the  manifestation  of  the  activity  of  the  “ one.” 
The  one  and  the  many  are  related  as  form  and 
content  in  an  organic  unity,  which  is  activity.  The 
essence  of  a substance,  says  Leibniz,  consists  in 
that  regular  tendency  of  action  by  which  its  phe- 
nomena follow  one  another  in  a certain  order ; and 
that  order,  as  he  repeatedly  states,  is  the  order  in 
which  the  universe  itself  is  arranged. 

The  activity  of  a monad  may  be  advantageously 
compared  to  that  of  a supposed  atom,  granting,  for 
the  sake  of  the  illustration,  that  there  is  such  a thing. 
Each  is  in  a state  of  change  : the  atom  changes  its 
place,  the  monad  its  representation,  and  each  in  the 
simplest  and  most  uniform  way  that  its  conditions 
permit.  How,  then,  is  there  such  a similarity,  such 
a monotony,  in  the  change  of  an  atom,  and  such 
variety  and  complexity  in  the  change  of  a monad? 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


59 


It  is  because  the  atom  has  merely  parts,  or  ex- 
ternal variety,  while  the  monad  has  an  internal 
variety.  Multiplicity  is  organically  wrought  into 
its  very  being.  It  has  an  essential  relation  to  all 
things  in  the  universe  ; and  to  say  that  this  rela- 
tion is  essential,  is  to  say  that  it  is  one  which  con- 
stitutes its  very  content,  its  being.  Hence  the  cause 
of  the  changes  of  the  monad,  of  their  variety  and 
complexity,  is  one  with  the  cause  of  the  richness, 
the  profusion,  the  regulated  variety  of  change  in  the 
universe  itself.  While  we  have  employed  a com- 
parison with  atoms,  this  very  comparison  may  serve 
to  show  us  the  impossibility  of  atoms  as  they  are 
generally  defined  by  the  physicist  turned  philosopher. 
Atoms  have  no  internal  and  essential  relation  to  the 
world;  they  have  no  internal  connection  with  any 
one  thing  in  the  world  : and  what  is  this  but  to  say 
that  they  do  not  enter  anywhere  into  the  structure 
of  the  world?  By  their  very  conception  they  are  for- 
ever aliens,  banished  from  any  share  or  lot  in  the 
realm  of  reality.  The  idea  which  Leibniz  never 
lets  go,  the  idea  which  he  always  accentuates,  is, 
then,  the  idea  of  an  individual  activity  which  in 
its  continual  change  manifests  as  its  own  internal 
content  and  reality  that  reality  and  those  laws  of 
connection  which  make  up  the  world  itself. 

We  are  thus  introduced  naturally  to  the  concep- 
tion which  plays  so  large  a part  in  the  Leibnizian 
philosophy,  that  of  pre-established  harmony.  This 
term  simply  names  the  fact,  which  we  see  to  be 
fundamental  with  Leibniz,  — the  fact  that,  while 


GO 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


the  form  of  every  monad  is  individuality,  a unique 
principle  of  action,  its  content  is  universal,  the  very 
being  and  laws  of  the  world.  For  we  must  now 
notice  more  explicitly  what  has  been  wrapped  up  in 
the  idea  all  along.  There  is  no  direct  influence  of 
monads  upon  each  other.  One  cannot  affect  another 
causally.  There  is  no  actual  interaction  of  one  upon 
another.  Expressed  in  that  figurative  language 
which  was  ever  natural  to  Leibniz,  the  monads  have 
no  windows  by  which  anything  can  get  in  or  out. 
This  follows,  of  course,  from  the  mutual  inde- 
pendence and  individuality  of  the  monads.  They 
are  a true  democracy,  in  which  each  citizen  has  sov- 
ereignty. To  admit  external  influences  acting  upon 
them  is  to  surrender  their  independence,  to  deny 
their  sovereignty.  But  we  must  remember  the  other 
half.  This  democracy  is  not  after  the  Platonic  con- 
ception of  democracy,  in  which  each  does  as  it 
pleases,  and  in  which  there  is  neither  order  nor 
law,  but  the  extremest  assertion  of  individuality. 
What  each  sovereign  citizen  of  the  realm  of  reality 
expresses  is  precisely  law.  Each  is  an  embodiment 
in  its  own  wTay  of  the  harmony,  the  order,  of  the 
whole  kingdom.  Each  is  sovereign  because  it  is 
dynamic  law,  — law  which  is  no  longer  abstract, 
but  has  realized  itself  in  life.  Thus  another  way  of 
stating  the  doctrine  of  pre-established  harmony  is 
the  unity  of  freedom  and  necessity.  Each  monad 
is  free  because  it  is  individual,  because  it  follows 
the  law  of  its  own  activity  unhindered,  unretarded, 
by  others ; it  is  self-determined.  But  it  is  self- 


THE*  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


61 


determined  to  show  forth  the  order,  the  harmony, 
of  the  universe.  There  is  nothing  of  caprice,  of 
peculiarity,  in  the  couteut  of  the  monad.  It  shows 
forth  order ; it  is  organized  by  law ; it  reveals 
the  necessary  connections  which  constitute  the  uni- 
verse. The  pre-established  harmony  is  the  unity  of 
the  individual  and  the  universe  ; it  is  the  organic 
oneness  of  freedom  and  necessity. 

We  see  still  further  what  it  means  when  we  learn 
that  it  is  by  this  conception  that  Leibniz  reconciles 
the  conceptions  of  physical  and  final  causation. 
There  is  no  principle  closer  to  the  thought  of  Leibniz 
than  that  of  the  equal  presence  aud  efficiency  every- 
where of  both  physical  and  final  causes.  Every  fact 
which  occurs  is  susceptible  of  a mechanical  and  of 
a rational  explanation.  It  is  necessarily  connected 
with  preceding  states,  and  it  has  a necessary  end 
which  it  is  fulfilling.  The  complete  meaning  of  this 
principle  will  meet  us  hereafter  ; at  present  we  must 
notice  that  it  is  one  form  of  the  doctrine  of  pre- 
established  harmony.  All  things  have  an  end  be- 
cause they  form  parts  of  one  system  ; everything 
that  occurs  looks  forward  to  something  else  and 
prepares  the  way  for  it,  and  yet  it  is  itself  mechani- 
cally conditioned  by  its  antecedents.  This  is  only 
another  way  of  saying  that  there  is  complete  har- 
mony between  all  beings  in  the  universe  ; so  that 
each  monad  in  fulfilling  the  law  of  its  own  existence 
contributes  to  the  immanent  significance  of  the  uni- 
verse. The  monads  are  co-ordinated  in  such  a way 
that  they  express  a common  idea.  There  is  a plan 


02 


LEIBNIZS  NEW  ESSAYS. 


common  to  all,  in  which  each  has  its  own  place. 
All  are  making  towards  one  goal,  expressing  one 
purpose.  The  universe  is  an  organism  ; and  Leib- 
niz would  have  applied  to  it  the  words  which  Milne- 
Edwards  applied  to  the  human  organism,  as  I find 
them  quoted  by  Lewes:  “In  the  organism  every- 
thing seems  to  be  calculated  with  one  determined 
result  in  view  ; and  the  harmony  of  the  parts  does 
not  result  from  the  influence  which  they  exert  upon 
one  another,  but  from  their  co-ordination  under  the 
rule  of  a common  force,  a preconceived  plan,  a 
pre-existent  force.”  That  is  to  say,  the  universe 
is  teleological,  both  as  a whole  and  in  its  parts  ; 
for  there  is  a common  idea  animating  it  and  ex- 
pressed by  it  ; it  is  mechanical,  for  this  idea  is 
realized  and  manifested  by  the  outworking  of 
forces. 

It  ought  to  be  evident  even  from  this  imperfect 
sketch  that  the  Leibnizian  theoi'37  of  pre-established 
harmony  is  not  that  utterly  artificial  and  grotesque 
doctrine  which  it  is  sometimes  represented  to  be. 
The  phrase  “ pre-established  harmony  ” is,  strictly 
speaking,  tautologous.  The  term  “ pre-established  ” 
is  superfluous.  It  means  “ existent.”  There  is  no 
real  harmony  which  is  not  existent  or  pre-established. 
An  accidental  harmony  is  a contradiction  in  terms. 
It  means  a chaotic  cosmos,  an  unordered  order,  a 
lawless  law,  or  whatever  else  is  nonsensical. 

Harmony,  in  short,  means  relation,  means  con- 
nection, means  subordination  and  co-ordination, 
means  adjustment,  means  a variety,  which  yet  is 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION. 


63 


one.  The  Leibnizian  doctrine  is  not  a factitious 
product  of  his  imagination,  nor  is  it  a mechanical 
scheme  for  reconciling  a problem  which  has  no  exis- 
tence outside  of  the  bewildered  brains  of  philoso- 
phers. It  is  an  expression  of  the  fact  that  the 
universe  is  one  of  order,  of  continuity,  of  unity  ; it 
is  the  accentuating  of  this  doctrine  so  that  the  very 
essence  of  reality  is  found  in  this  ordered  combina- 
tion ; it  is  the  special  application  of  this  principle 
to  the  solution  of  many  of  the  problems  which  “ the 
mind  of  man  is  apt  to  run  into,”  — the  questions  of 
the  relation  of  the  individual  and  the  universal,  of 
freedom  and  necessity,  of  the  physical  and  ma- 
terial, of  the  teleological  and  mechanical.  We  may 
not  be  contented  with  the  doctrine  as  he  presents 
it,  we  may  think  it  to  be  rather  a summary  and 
highly  concentrated  statement  of  the  problem  than 
its  solution,  or  we  may  object  to  details  in  the  carry- 
ing out  of  the  doctrine.  But  we  cannot  deny  that 
it  is  a genuine  attempt  to  meet  a genuine  problem, 
and  that  it  contains  some,  if  not  all,  of  the  factors 
required  for  its  adequate  solution.  To  Leibniz  must 
remain  the  glory  of  being  the  thinker  to  seize  upon 
the  perfect  unity  and  order  of  the  universe  as  its 
essential  characteristic,  and  of  arranging  his  thoughts 
with  a view  to  discovering  and  expressing  it. 

We  have  but  to  notice  one  point  more,  and  our 
task  is  done  so  far  as  it  serves  to  make  plain  the 
standpoint  from  which  Leibniz  criticised  Locke. 
There  is,  we  have  seen,  the  greatest  possible  con- 
tinuity and  complexity  in  the  realm  of  monads. 


64 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


There  is  no  break,  quantitative  nor  qualitative.  It 
follows  that  the  human  soul  has  no  gulf  set  between 
it  and  what  we  call  nature.  It  is  only  the  highest, 
that  is  to  say  the  most  active  and  the  most  repre- 
sentative, of  all  monads.  It  stands,  indeed,  at 
the  head  of  the  scale,  but  not  outside  it.  From 
the  monad  which  reveals  its  presence  in  that  stone 
which  with  blinded  eyes  we  call  dead,  through  that 
which  acts  in  the  plant,  in  the  animal,  up  to  that  of 
man,  there  is  no  chasm,  no  interruption.  Nay,  man 
himself  is  but  one  link  in  the  chain  of  spiritual 
beings  which  ends  only  in  God.  All  monads  are 
souls  ; the  soul  of  man  is  a monad  which  represents 
the  universe  more  distinctly  and  adequately.  The 
law  which  is  enfolded  in  the  lower  monads  is  de- 
veloped in  it  and  forms  a part  of  its  conscious 
activity.  The  universe,  which  is  confusedly  mirrored 
by  the  perception  of  the  lower  monad,  is  clearly 
brought  out  in  the  conscious  apperception  of  man. 
The  stone  is  representative  of  the  whole  world.  An 
all-knowing  intelligence  might  read  in  it  relations 
to  every  other  fact  in  the  world,  might  see  exem- 
plified the  past  history  of  the  world,  and  prefigured 
the  events  tp  come.  For  the  stone  is  not  an  isolated 
existence,  it  is  an  inter-organic  member  of  a system. 
Change  the  slightest  fact  in  the  world,  and  in  some 
way  it  is  affected.  The  law  of  the  universe  is  one 
of  completed  reciprocity,  and  this  law  must  be 
mirrored  in  every  existence  of  the  universe.  In- 
crease the  activity,  the  representative  power,  until 
it  becomes  turned  back,  as  it  were,  upon  itself, 


THE  PROBLEM,  AND  ITS  SOLUTION.  65 

until  the  monad  not  only  is  a mirror,  but  knows 
itself  as  one,  and  you  have  man.  The  soul  of  man 
is  the  world  come  to  consciousness  of  itself.  The 
realm  of  monads  in  what  we  call  the  inorganic  world 
and  the  lower  organic  realm  shows  us  the  monad 
let  and  hindered  in  its  development.  These  realms 
attempt  to  speak  forth  the  law  of  their  being,  and 
reveal  the  immanent  presence  of  the  universe  ; but 
they  do  not  hear  their  own  voice,  their  utterance  is 
only  for  others.  In  man  the  universe  is  manifested, 
and  is  manifested  to  man  himself. 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


66 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS. 

THE  reader,  impatient  of  what  may  have  seemed 
an  over-long  introduction,  lias  perhaps  been 
asking  when  he  was  to  be  brought  to  the  subject 
under  consideration,  — the  relations  of  Leibniz  to 
Locke.  But  it  has  been  impossible  to  come  to  this 
question  until  we  had  formed  for  ourselves  an  out- 
line of  the  philosophical  position  of  Leibniz.  No- 
where in  the  “ Nouveaux  Essais”  does  Leibniz 
give  a connected  and  detailed  exposition  of  his  phi- 
losophy, either  as  to  his  standpoint,  his  fundamental 
principles,  or  his  method. 

Some  preliminary  view  of  his  position  is  there- 
fore a necessity.  The  demand  for  this  preliminary 
exposition  becomes  more  urgent  as  we  recognize 
that  Leibniz’s  remarks  upon  Locke  are  not  a critique 
of  Locke  from  the  standpoint  of  the  latter,  but  are 
the  application  of  his  own  philosophical  conclusions. 
Criticism  from  within,  an  examination  of  a system 
of  thought  with  relation  to  the  consistency  and  co- 
herency of  its  results,  the  connection  between  these 
results  and  the  method  professedly  employed,  inves- 
tigation which  depends  not  at  all  upon  the  position 
of  the  critic,  but  occupies  itself  with  the  internal 
relations  of  the  system  under  discussion,  — such 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS.  67 

criticism  is  a product  of  the  present  century.  What 
we  find  in  the  “ Nouveaux  Essais  ” is  a comparison 
of  the  ideas  of  Locke  with  those  of  Leibniz  himself, 
a testing  of  the  former  by  the  latter  as  a standard, 
their  acceptance  when  they  conform,  their  rejection 
when  they  are  opposed,  their  completion  when  they 
are  in  partial  harmony. 

The  value  of  this  sort  of  criticism  is  likely  to  be 
small  and  evanescent.  If  the  system  used  as  a 
standard  is  meagre  and  narrow,  if  it  is  without 
comprehensiveness  and  flexibility,  it  does  not  repay 
after-examination.  The  fact  that  the  “ Nouveaux 
Essais  ” of  Leibniz  have  escaped  the  oblivion  of  the 
philosophical  criticism  of  his  day  is  proof,  if  proof 
still  be  needed,  of  the  reasoned  basis,  the  width  of 
grasp,  the  fertility  of  suggestion  which  characterize 
the  thought  of  Leibniz.  But  the  fact  that  the  criti- 
cism is,  after  all,  external  and  not  internal  has 
made  necessary  the  foregoing  extended  account  of 
his  method  and  general  results. 

On  the  other  hand,  what  of  Locke?  How  about 
him  who  is  the  recipient  of  the  criticism?  I assume 
that  no  extended  account  of  his  ideas  is  here  neces- 
sary, and  conceive  myself  to  be  justified  in  this 
assumption  by  the  fact  that  we  are  already  better 
acquainted  with  Locke.  This  acquaintance,  indeed, 
is  not  confined  to  those  who  have  expressl}1  studied 
Locke.  His  thought  is  an  inheritance  into  which 
every  English-speaking  person  at  least  is  born. 
Only  he  who  does  not  think  escapes  this  inheritance. 
Locke  did  the  work  which  he  had  to  do  so  thoroughly 


68 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


that  every  Englishman  who  will  philosophize  must 
either  build  upon  Locke’s  foundations,  or,  with  con- 
scious purpose,  clear  the  ground  before  building  for 
himself.  And  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  that  the 
acceptance  of  Locke’s  views  would  influence  one’s 
thought  more  than  their  rejection.  This  must  not, 
of  course,  be  taken  too  literally.  It  may  be  that  one 
who  is  a lineal  descendant  of  Locke  in  the  spiritual 
generations  of  thought  would  not  state  a single  im- 
portant truth  as  Locke  stated  it,  or  that  those  who 
seek  their  method  and  results  elsewhere  have  not 
repudiated  the  thought  of  Locke  as  expressly  be- 
longing to  him. 

But  the  fundamental  principles  of  empiricism  : its 
conception  of  intelligence  as  an  individual  pos- 
session ; its  idea  of  reality  as  something  over 
against  and  distinct  from  mind ; its  explanation 
of  knowledge  as  a process  of  action  and  reaction 
between  these  separate  things  ; its  account  of  our 
inability  to  know  things  as  they  really  are,  — these 
principles  are  congenital  with  our  thinking.  They 
are  so  natural  that  we  either  accept  them  as  axio- 
matic, and  accuse  those  who  reject  them  of  metaphys- 
ical subtlety,  or,  staggered  perchance  by  some  of 
their  results,  give  them  up  with  an  effort.  But  it  is 
an  effort,  and  a severe  one  ; and  there  is  none  of  us 
who  can  tell  when  some  remnant  of  the  conception 
of  intelligence  as  purely  particular  and  finite  will 
catch  him  tripping.  On  the  other  hand,  we  realize 
much  better  than  those  who  have  behind  them  a 
Leibniz  and  a Kant,  rather  than  a Locke  and  a Hume, 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.- — INNATE  IDEAS.  69 

the  meaning  and  the  thorough-going  necessity  of  the 
universality  of  intelligence.  Idealism  must  be  in 
some  ways  arbitrary  and  superficial  to  him  who  has 
not  had  a pretty  complete  course  of  empiricism. 

Leibniz  seems  to  have  been  impressed  with  the 
Essay  ou  the  Human  Understanding  at  its  first  ap- 
pearance. As  early  as  1696  we  find  him  writing  a 
few  pages  of  comment  upon  the  book.  Compared 
with  his  later  critique,  these  early  “ reflections  ” seem 
colorless,  and  give  the  impression  that  Leibniz  desired 
to  minimize  his  differences  from  Locke  rather  than 
to  set  them  forth  in  relief.  Comparatively  slight  as 
were  his  expressions  of  dissent,  they  appear  to  have 
stung  Locke  when  they  reached  him.  Meantime 
Locke’s  book  was  translated  into  French,  and  made 
its  way  to  a wider  circle  of  readers.  This  seems  to 
have  suggested  to  Leibniz  the  advisability  of  pur- 
suing his  comments  somewhat  further ; and  in  the 
summer  of  1703  he  produced  the  work  which  now 
occupies  us.  A letter  which  Leibniz  wrote  at  about 
this  time  is  worth  quoting  at  large  for  the  light  which 
it  throws  upon  the  man,  as  well  as  for  suggesting 
the  chief  points  in  which  he  differed  from  Locke. 
Leibniz  writes  : — 

“ I have  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  my  comments 
upon  the  work  of  Locke  are  nearly  done.  As  he 
has  spoken  in  a chapter  of  his  second  book  about 
freedom,  he  has  given  me  an  opportunity  to  dis- 
cuss that ; and  I hope  that  I may  have  done  it  in 
such  a way  as  will  please  you.  Above  all,  I have 
laid  it  upon  myself  to  save  the  immateriality  of  the 


70 


LEIBN  I/'S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


soul,  which  Locke  leaves  doubtful.  I justify  also 
the  existence  of  innate  ideas,  and  show  that  the  soul 
produces  their  perception  out  of  itself.  Axioms, 
too,  I approve,  while  Locke  has  a low  opinion  of 
them.  In  contradiction  to  him,  I show  that  the 
individuality  of  man,  through  which  he  preserves 
his  identity,  consists  in  the  duration  of  the  simple 
or  immaterial  substance  which  animates  him  ; that 
the  soul  is  never  without  representations  ; that  there 
is  neither  a vacuum  nor  atoms  ; that  matter,  or  the 
passive  principle,  cannot  be  conscious,  excepting 
as  God  unites  with  it  a conscious  substance.  We 
disagree,  indeed,  in  numerous  other  points,  for  I 
find  that  he  rates  too  low  the  noble  philosophy  of 
the  Platonic  school  (as  Descartes  did  in  part),  and 
substitutes  -opinions  which  degrade  us,  and  which 
may  become  hurtful  to  morals,  though  I am  per- 
suaded that  Locke’s  intention  was  thoroughly  good. 
I have  made  these  comments  in  leisure  hours,  when 
I have  been  journeying  or  visiting,  and  could  not 
occupy  myself  with  investigations  requiring  great 
pains.  The  work  has  continued  to  grow  under  my 
hands,  for  in  almost  every  chapter,  and  to  a greater 
extent  than  I had  thought  possible,  I have  found 
matter  for  remark.  You  will  be  astonished  when  I 
tell  you  that  I have  worked  upon  this  as  upon  some- 
thing which  requires  no  great  pains.  But  the  fact 
is,  that  I long  ago  established  the  general  principles 
of  philosophic  subjects  iu  my  mind  in  a demon- 
strative way,  or  pretty  nearly  so,  and  that  they  do 
not  require  much  new  consideration  from  me.” 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS. 


71 


Leibniz  goes  on  to  add  that  he  has  put  these 
reflections  in  the  form  of  a dialogue  that  they  may 
be  more  attractive  ; has  written  them  in  the  pop- 
ular language,  rather  than  in  Latin,  that  they  may 
reach  as  wide  a circle  as  the  work  of  Locke ; and 
that  he  hopes  to  publish  them  soon,  as  Locke  is 
already  an  old  man,  and  he  wishes  to  get  them 
before  the  public  while  Locke  may  still  reply. 

But  unfortunately  this  last  hope  was  destined  to 
remain  unrealized.  Before  the  work  of  revision 
was  accomplished,  Locke  died.  Leibniz,  in  a letter 
written  in  1714,  alludes  to  his  controversy  with 
Locke  as  follows:  “I  do  not  like  the  thought  of 
publishing  refutations  of  authors  who  are  dead. 
These  should  appear  during  their  life,  and  be  com- 
municated to  them.”  Then,  referring  to  his  earlier 
comments,  he  says  : “ A few  remarks  escaped  me, 
I hardly  know  how,  and  wrere  taken  to  England. 
Mr.  Locke,  having  seen  them,  spoke  of  them  slight- 
ingly in  a letter  to  Molineux.  I am  not  astonished 
at  it.  We  were  somewhat  too  far  apart  in  prin- 
ciple, and  that  which  I suggested  seemed  paradox- 
ical to  him.”  Leibniz,  according  to  his  conviction 
here  expressed,  never  published  his  “ Nouveaux 
Essais  sur  l’Entendement  Humain.”  Schaarschmidt 
remarks  that  another  reason  may  have  restrained 
him,  in  that  he  did  not  wish  to  carry  on  too  many  con- 
troversies at  ouce  with  the  English  people.  He  had 
two  on  his  hands  then,  — oue  with  the  Newtonians 
regarding  the  infinitesimal  calculus ; the  other  with 
Bishop  Clarke  regarding  the  nature  of  God,  of  time 


72 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


and  space,  of  freedom,  and  cognate  subjects. 
However,  in  1765,  almost  fifty  years  after  the 
death  of  Leibniz,  his  critique  upon  Locke  finally 
appeared. 

It  is  somewhat  significant  that  one  whose  ten- 
dency was  conciliatory,  who  was  eminently  what 
the  Germans  delight  to  call  him,  a “mediator,” 
attempting  to  unite  the  varied  truths  which  he  found 
scattered  in  opposed  systems,  should  have  had  so 
much  of  his  work  called  forth  by  controversy. 
Aside  from  the  cases  just  mentioned,  his  other  chief 
work,  the  Theodicy,  is,  in  form,  a reply  to  Bayle. 
Many  of  his  minor  pieces  are  replies  to  criticism  or 
are  developments  of  his  own  thought  with  critical 
reference  to  Descartes,  Malebranche,  and  others. 
But  Leibniz  has  a somewhat  different  attitude 
towards  his  British  and  towards  his  Continental 
opponents.  With  the  latter  he  was  always  in  sym- 
pathy, while  they  in  turn  gave  whatever  he  uttered 
a respectful  hearing.  Their  mutual  critiques  begin 
and  end  in  compliments.  But  the  Englishmen 
found  the  thought  of  Leibniz  “paradoxical”  and 
forced.  It  seemed  to  them  wildly  speculative,  and 
indeed  arbitrary  guess-work,  without  any  special 
reason  for  its  production,  and  wholly  unverifiable  in 
its  results.  Such  has  been  the  fate  of  much  of  the 
best  German  thought  since  that  time  in  the  land  of 
the  descendants  of  Newton  and  Locke.  But  Leib- 
niz, on  the  other  hand,  felt  as  if  he  were  dealing, 
in  philosophical  matters  at  least,  with  foemen  hardly 
worthy  of  his  steel.  Locke,  he  says,  had  subtlety 


LOCKE  lAN I)  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS. 


73 


and  address,  and  a sort  of  superficial  metaphysics  ; 
but  lie  was  ignorant  of  the  method  of  mathematics,  — 
that  is  to  say,  from  the  standpoint  of  Leibniz,  of 
the  method  of  all  science.  We  have  already  seen 
that  he  thought  the  examination  of  a work  which 
had  been  the  result  of  the  continued  labor  of  Locke 
was  a matter  for  the  leisure  hours  of  his  courtly 
visits.  Indeed,  he  would  undoubtedly  have  felt 
about  it  what  he  actually  expressed  regarding  his 
controversy  with  Clarke,  — that  he  engaged  in  it 

“Ludus  et  jocus,  quia  in  philosophia 
Omnia  percepi  atque  ammo  mecum  ante  peregi.” 

He  regarded  the  English  as  superficial  and  without 
grasp  of  principles,  as  they  thought  him  over-deep 
and  over- theoretical. 

From  this  knowledge  of  the  external  circum- 
stances of  the  work  of  Leibniz  and  its  relation  to 
Locke,  it  is  necessary  that  we  turn  to  its  internal 
content,  to  the  thought  of  Leibniz  as  related  to  the 
ideas  of  Locke.  The  Essay  on  the  Human  Under- 
standing is,  as  the  name  implies,  an  account  of  the 
nature  of  knowledge.  Locke  tells  us  that  it  origi- 
nated in  the  fact  that  often,  when  he  had  been  en- 
gaged in  discussions  with  his  friends,  they  found 
themselves  landed  in  insoluble  difficulties.  This 
occurred  so  frequently  that  it  seemed  probable  that 
they  had  been  going  at  matters  from  the  wrong  side, 
and  that  before  they  attempted  to  come  to  conclu- 
sions about  questions  , they  ought  to  examine  the  ca- 
pacity of  intelligence,  and  see  whether  it  is  fitted 


74 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


to  deal  with  such  questions.  Locke,  in  a word,  is 
another  evidence  of  that  truth  which  lies  at  the 
basis  of  all  forms  of  philosophical  thought,  however 
opposed  they  may  be  to  one  another,  — the  truth  that 
knowledge  and  reality  are  so  organic  to  each  other 
that  to  come  to  any  conclusion  about  one,  wre  must 
know  something  about  the  other.  Reality  equals 
objects  known  or  knowable,  and  knowledge  equals 
reality  dissolved  in  ideas,  — reality  which  has  be- 
come translucent  through  its  meaning. 

Locke’s  Essay  is,  then,  an  account  of  the  origin, 
nature,  extent,  and  limitations  of  human  knowledge. 
Such  is  its  subject-matter.  What  is  its  method? 
Locke  himself  tells  us  that  lie  uses  the  “plain  his- 
torical method.”  We  do  not  have  to  resort  to  the 
forcing  of  language  to  learn  that  this  word  “ his- 
torical ” contains  the  key  to  his  work.  Every  page 
of  the  Essay  is  testimony  to  the  fact  that  Locke 
always  proceeds  by  inquiring  into  the  way  and 
circumstances  by  which  knowledge  of  the  subject 
under  consideration  came  into  existence  and  into 
the  conditions  by  which  it  was  developed.  Origin 
means  with  Locke,  not  logical  dependence,  but  tem- 
poral production ; development  means  temporal 
succession.  In  the  language  of  our  day,  Locke’s 
Essay  is  an  attempt  to  settle  ontological  questions 
by  a psychological  method.  And  as  we  have  before 
noticed,  Leibniz  meets  him,  not  by  inquiry  into  the 
pertinence  of  the  method  or  into  the  validity  of 
results  so  reached,  but  by  the  more  direct  way  of 
impugning  his  psychology,  by  substituting  another 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS.  75 

theory  of  the  nature  of  mind  and  of  the  way  in 
which  it  works. 

The  questions  with  which  the  discussion  begins 
are  as  to  the  existence  of  innate  ideas,  and  as  to 
whether  the  soul  always  thinks,  — questions  which 
upon  their  face  will  lead  the  experienced  reader  of 
to-day  to  heave  a sigh  in  memory  of  hours  wasted 
in  barren  dispute,  and  which  will  create  a desire  to 
turn  elsewhere  for  matter  more  solid  and  more 
nutritive.  But  in  this  case,  under  the  form  which 
the  discussion  takes  at  the  hands  of  Leibniz,  the 
question  which  awaits  answer  under  the  meagre  and 
worn-out  formula  of  “ innate  ideas  ” is  the  function 
of  intelligence  in  experience. 

Locke  denies,  and  denies  with  great  vigor,  the 
existence  of  innate  ideas.  His  motives  in  so  doing 
are  practical  and  theoretical.  He  sees  almost  every 
old  idea,  every  hereditary  prejudice,  every  vested 
interest  of  thought,  defended  on  the  ground  that 
it  is  an  innate  idea.  Innate  ideas  were  sacred,  and 
everything  which  could  find  no  defence  before 
reason  was  an  innate  idea.  Under  such  circum- 
stances he  takes  as  much  interest  in  demolishing 
them  as  Bacon  took  in  the  destruction  of  the 
“ eidols.”  But  this  is  but  a small  portion  of  the 
object  of  Locke.  He  is  a thorough-going  empiri- 
cist ; and  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas  appears  to 
offer  the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  acceptance  of  the 
truth  that  all  the  furnishing  of  the  intellect  comes 
from  experience.  Locke’s  metaphors  for  the  mind 
are  that  it  is  a blank  tablet,  an  empty  closet,  an 


76 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


unwritten  book.  The  “ innate  idea”  is  only  a sen- 
tence written  by  experience,  but  which,  deified  by  a 
certain  school  of  philosophers,  has  come  to  be 
regarded  as  eternally  imprinted  upon  the  soul. 

Such,  indeed,  is  Locke’s  understanding  of  the 
nature  of  innate  ideas.  He  conceives  of  them  as 
“characters  stamped , as  it  were,  upon  the  mind  of 
man,  which  the  soul  has  received  in  its  first  being 
and  brings  into  the  world  with  it ; ” or  they  are 
“ constant  impressions  which  the  souls  of  men 
receive  in  their  first  beings.”  They  are  “truths 
imprinted  upon  the  soul.”  Having  this  conception 
of  what  is  meant  by  “ innate  ideas,”  Locke  sets 
himself  with  great  vigor,  and,  it  must  be  confessed, 
with  equal  success,  to  their  annihilation. 

His  argument  is  somewhat  diffuse  and  scattered, 
but  in  substance  it  is  as  follows  : Whatever  is  in 
the  mind,  the  mind  must  be  conscious  of.  “To  be 
in  the  mind  and  not  to  be  perceived,  is  all  one  as  to 
say  that  anything  is  and  is  not  in  the  mind.”  If 
there  be  anything  in  the  mind  which  is  innate,  it 
must  be  present  to  the  consciousness  of  all,  and,  it 
would  seem,  of  all  at  all  times,  savages,  infants, 
and  idiots  included.  And  as  it  requires  little  phil- 
osophical penetration  to  see  that  savages  do  not 
ponder  upon  the  principle  that  whatever  is,  is  ; that 
infants  do  not  dwell  in  their  cradle  upon  the  thought 
of  contradiction,  or  idiots  ruminate  upon  that  of 
excluded  middle,  — it  ought  to  be  evident  that  such 
truths  cannot  be  innate.  Indeed,  we  must  admit, 
with  Locke,  that  probably  few  men  ever  come  to 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS.  77 

the  explicit  consciousness  of  such  ideas,  and  that 
these  few  are  such  as  direct  their  minds  to  the 
matter  with  some  pains.  Locke’s  argument  may  be 
summed  up  in  his  words : If  these  are  not  notions 
naturally  imprinted,  how  can  they  be  innate?  And 
if  they  are  notions  naturally  imprinted,  how  can 
they  be  unknown? 

But  since  it  may  be  said  that  these  truths  are  in 
the  mind,  but  in  such  a way  that  it  is  only  when 
they  are  proposed  that  men  assent  to  them,  Locke 
goes  on  to  clinch  his  argument.  If  this  be  true,  it 
shows  that  the  ideas  are  not  innate  ; for  the  same 
thing  is  true  of  a large  number  of  scientific  truths, 
those  of  mathematics  and  morals,  as  well  as  of 
purely  sensible  facts,  as  that  red  is  not  blue,  sweet 
is  not  sour,  etc.,- — -truths  and  facts  which  no  one 
calls  innate.  Or  if  it  be  said  that  they  are  in  the 
mind  implicitly  or  potentially,  Locke  points  out 
that  this  means  either  nothing  at  all,  or  else  that 
the  mind  is  capable  of  knowing  them.  If  this  is 
what  is  meant  by  innate  ideas,  then  all  ideas  are 
innate  ; for  certainly  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the 
mind  is  capable  of  knowing  all  that  it  ever  does 
know,  or,  as  Locke  ingenuously  remarks,  “nobody 
ever  denied  that  the  mind  was  capable  of  knowing 
several  truths.” 

It  is  evident  that  the  force  of  Locke’s  contention 
against  innate  ideas  rests  upon  a certain  theory 
regarding  the  nature  of  innate  ideas  and  of  the 
relations  of  consciousness  to  intelligence.  Besides 
this,  there  runs  through  his  Avhole  polemic  the 


78 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


assertion  that,  after  all,  innate  ideas  are  useless,  as 
experience,  in  the  sense  of  impressions  received 
from  without,  and  the  formal  action  of  intelligence 
upon  them,  is  adequate  to  doing  all  they  are  sup- 
posed to  do.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  the 
nerve  of  Locke’s  argument  is  rather  in  this  positive 
assertion  than  in  the  negations  which  he  brings 
against  this  existence.  Leibniz  takes  issue  with 
him  on  each  of  these  three  points.  He  has  another 
conception  of  the  very  nature  of  innate  ideas  ; he 
denies  Locke’s  opinions  about  consciousness ; he 
brings  forward  an  opposed  theory  upon  the  relation 
of  experience  to  reason.  This  last  point  we  shall 
take  up  in  a chapter  by  itself,  as  its  importance  ex- 
tends far  beyond  the  mere  question  as  to  the  exist- 
ence of  ideas  which  may  properly  be  called  innate. 
The  other  two  questions,  as  to  the  real  character  of 
innate  ideas  and  the  relation  of  an  idea  to  conscious- 
ness, afford  material  to  occupy  us  for  the  present. 

The  metaphor  which  Locke  constantly  uses  is  the 
clew  to  his  conception  of  innate  ideas.  They  are 
characters  stamped  or  imprinted  upon  the  mind, 
they  exist  in  the  mind.  The  mind  would  be  just 
what  it  is,  even  if  they  had  no  existence.  It  would 
not  have  quite  so  much  14  in  ” it,  but  its  own  nature 
would  not  be  changed.  Innate  ideas  he  conceives 
as  bearing  a purely  external  relation  to  mind.  They 
are  not  organic  to  it,  nor  necessary  instruments 
through  which  it  expresses  itself  ; they  are  mechani- 
cally impressed  upon  it.  But  what  the  “ intellec- 
tual ” school  had  meant  by  innate  ideas  was  precisely 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ. — INNATE  IDEAS.  79 


that  the  relation  of  ideas  to  intelligence  is  not  that  of 
passive  holding  or  containing  on  the  side  of  mind, 
and  of  impressions  or  stamps  on  the  side  of  the 
ideas.  Locke  reads  the  fundamental  category  of 
empiricism  — mechanical  relation,  or  external  action 
— into  the  nature  of  innate  ideas,  ancl  hence  easily 
infers  their  absurdity.  But  the  object  of  the  up- 
holders of  innate  ideas  had  been  precisely  to  deny 
that  this  category  was  applicable  to  the  whole  of 
intelligence.  By  an  innate  idea  they  meant  an  as- 
sertion of  the  dynamic  relation  of  intelligence  and 
some  of  its  ideas.  They  meant  to  assert  that  intel- 
ligence has  a structure,  which  necessarily  functions 
in  certain  ways.  While  Locke’s  highest  conception 
of  an  innate  idea  was  that  it  must  be  something  ready 
made,  dwelling  in  the  mind  prior  to  experience, 
Leibniz  everywhere  asserts  that  it  is  a connection 
and  relation  which  forms  the  logical  prius  and  the 
psychological  basis  of  experience.  He  finds  no 
difficulty  in  admitting  all  there  is  of  positive  truth  in 
Locke’s  doctrine  ; namely,  that  we  are  not  conscious 
of  these  innate  ideas  until  a period  later  than  that  in 
which  we  are  conscious  of  sensible  facts,  or,  in  many 
cases,  are  not  conscious  of  them  at  all.  This  prior- 
ity in  time  of  sensible  experience  to  rational  knowl- 
edge, however,  can  become  a reason  for  denying  the 
“innate”  character  of  the  latter  only  when  we 
suppose  that  they  are  two  entirely  different  orders 
of  fact,  one  knowledge  due  to  experience,  the  other 
knowledge  already  formed  and  existing  in  the  mind 
prior  to  “ experience.” 


80 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


Leibniz’s  conception  of  the  matter  is  brought  out 
when  he  says  that  it  is  indeed  true  that  we  be- 
gin with  particular  experiences  rather  than  with 
general  principles,  but  that  the  order  of  nature 
is  the  reverse,  for  the  ground,  the  basis  of  the  par- 
ticular truths  is  in  the  general ; the  former  being  in 
reality  only  instances  of  the  latter.  General  prin- 
ciples, he  says,  enter  into  all  our  thoughts,  and  form 
their  soul  and  interconnection.  They  are  as  neces- 
sary for  thought  as  muscles  and  tendons  are  for 
walking,  although  we  may  not  be  conscious  of  their 
existence.  This  side  of  the  teaching  of  Leibniz 
consists,  accordingly,  in  the  assertion  that  “ innate” 
knowledge  and  knowledge  derived  from  experience 
are  not  two  kinds  of  knowledge,  but  rather  two 
ways  of  considering  it.  If  we  consider  it  as  it 
comes  to  us,  piecemeal  and  fragmentary,  a succes- 
sion of  particular  instances,  to  be  gathered  up  at  a 
future  time  into  general  principles,  and  stated  in  a 
rational  form,  it  is  seen  as  empirical.  But,  after  all, 
this  is  only  a superficial  and  external  way  of  looking 
at  it.  If  we  examine  into  it  we  shall  see  that  there 
are  contained  in  these  transitory  and  particular  ex- 
periences certain  truths  more  general  and  funda- 
mental, which  condition  them,  and  at  the  same  time 
constitute  their  meaning. 

If  we  inquire  into  the  propriety  of  calling  these 
truths  “ innate,”  we  find  it  is  because  they  are  na- 
tive to  intelligence,  and  are  not  acquisitions  which 
it  makes.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  they  are  in- 
telligence, so  close  and  organic  is  their  relation, 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS.  81 


just  as  the  muscles,  the  tendons,  the  skeleton,  are 
the  body.  Thus  it  is  that  Leibniz  accepts  the  state- 
ment, Nihil  est  in  intellectu  quod  non  fuerit  in  sensu , 
with  the  addition  of  the  statement  nisi  ipse  intellee- 
tus.  The  doctrine  of  the  existence  of  innate  ideas 
is  thus  shown  to  mean  that  intelligence  exists  with 
a real  content  which  counts  for  something  in  the 
realm  of  experience.  If  we  take  intelligence  and 
examine  into  its  structure  and  ascertain  its  modes 
of  expression,  we  find  organically  inherent  in  its 
activity  certain  conceptions  like  unity,  power,  sub- 
stance, identity,  etc.,  and  these  we  call  “ innate.” 
An  idea,  in  short,  is  no  longer  conceived  as  some- 
thing existing  in  the  mind  or  in  consciousness  ; it  is 
an  activity  of  intelligence.  An  innate  idea  is  a 
necessary  activity  of  intelligence;  that  is,  such 
an  activity  as  enters  into  the  framework  of  all 
experience. 

Leibniz  thus  succeeds  in  avoiding  two  errors  into 
which  philosophers  whose  general  aims  are  much 
like  his  have  fallen.  One  is  dividing  a priori  and 
a posteriori  truths  from  each  other  by  a hard  and 
fixed  line,  so  that  we  are  conceived  to  have  some 
knowledge  which  comes  wholly  from  experience, 
while  there  is  another  which  comes  wholly  from  rea- 
son. According  to  Leibniz,  there  is  no  thought  so 
abstract  that  it  does  not  have  its  connection  with  a 
sensible  experience,  or  rather  its  embodiment  in  it. 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  experience  so 
thoroughly  sensuous  that  it  does  not  bear  in  itself 
traces  of  its  origin  in  reason.  uAll  our  thoughts 


82 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


come  from  the  depths  of  the  soul,”  says  Leibniz  ; 
there  are  none  that  “ come  ” to  us  from  without. 
The  other  error  is  the  interpretation  of  the  existence 
of  innate  ideas  or  “ intuitions”  (as  this  school  gen- 
erally calls  them)  in  a purely  formal  sense.  They 
are  thus  considered  as  truths  contained  in  and  some- 
how expressed  by  intelligence,  but  yet  not  so  con- 
nected with  it  that  in  knowing  them  we  necessarily 
know  intelligence  itself.  They  are  considered  rather 
as  arbitrary  determinations  of  truths  by  a power 
whose  own  nature  is  conceivably  foreign  to  truth, 
than  as  so  many  special  developments  of  an  activity 
which  may  indifferently  be  called  “intelligence”  or 
“ truth.”  Leibniz,  however,  never  fails  to  state  that 
an  innate  truth  is,  after  all,  but  one  form  or  aspect 
of  the  activity  of  the  mind  in  knowing. 

In  this  way,  by  bringing  to  light  a deeper  and 
richer  conception  of  what  in  reality  constitutes  an 
innate  idea,  Leibniz  answers  Locke.  His  reply  is 
indirect ; it  consists  rather  in  throwing  a flood  of 
new  light  upon  the  matter  discussed,  than  in  a pon- 
derous response  and  counter-attack.  But  when 
Leibniz  touches  upon  the  conception  of  a tabula 
rasa , of  a mind  which  in  itself  is  a mere  blank,  but 
has  the  capacity  for  knowing,  he  assumes  the  offen- 
sive. The  idea  of  a bare  capacity,  a formal  faculty, 
of  power  which  does  not  already  involve  some  actual 
content  within  itself,  he  repudiates  as  a relic  of 
scholasticism.  What  is  the  soul,  which  has  nothing 
until  it  gets  it  from  without?  The  doctrine  of  a 
vacuum,  an  emptiness  which  is  real,  is  always  absurd  ; 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS.  83 

and  it  is  doubly  so  when  to  this  vacuum  is  ascribed 
powers  of  feeling  and  thinking,  as  Locke  does.  Ac- 
cepting for  the  moment  the  metaphor  of  a tabula 
rasa , Leibniz  asks  where  we  shall  find  a tablet  which 
yet  does  not  have  some  quality,  and  which  is  not  a 
co-operating  cause,  at  least,  in  whatever  effects  are 
produced  upon  it?  The  notion  of  a soul  without 
thought,  an  empty  tablet  of  the  soul,  lie  says,  is  one 
of  a thousand  fictions  of  philosophers.  He  com- 
pares it  with  the  idea  of  “ space  empty  of  matter, 
absolute  uniformity  or  homogeneity,  perfect  spheres 
of  the  second  element  produced  by  primordial  perfect 
cubes,  abstractions  pure  and  simple,  to  which  our 
ignorance  and  inattention  give  birth,  but  of  which 
reality  does  not  admit.”  If  Locke  admits  then 
(as  he  does)  certain  capacities  inherent  in  the  soul, 
he  cannot  mean  the  scholastic  fiction  of  bare  ca- 
pacity or  Tnere  possibility  ; he  must  mean  “ real 
possibilities,”  — that  is,  capacities  accompanied  with 
some  actual  tendency,  an  inclination,  a disposition, 
an  aptitude,  a preformation  which  determines  our 
soul  in  a certain  direction,  and  which  makes  it  ne- 
cessary that  the  possibility  becomes  actual.  And  this 
tendency,  this  actual  inclination  of  intelligence  in 
one  way  rather  than  another,  so  that  it  is  not  a 
matter  of  indifference  to  intelligence  what  it  pro- 
duces, is  precisely  what  constitutes  an  innate  idea. 
So  Leibniz  feels  certain  that  at  bottom  Locke  must 
agree  with  him  in  this  matter  if  the  latter  is  really  in 
earnest  in  rejecting  the  “faculties”  of  the  scholastics 
and  in  wishing  for  a real  explanation  of  knowledge. 


84 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


But  the  argument  of  Locke  rests  upon  yet  another 
basis.  He  founds  his  denial  of  innate  ideas  not 
only  upon  a static  conception  of  their  ready  made 
existence  “in”  the  soul,  but  also  upon  an  equally 
mechanical  conception  of  consciousness.  “Nothing 
can  be  in  the  mind  which  is  not  in  consciousness.” 
This  statement  appears  axiomatic  to  Locke,  and  by 
it  he  would  settle  the  whole  discussion.  Regarding 
it,  Leibniz  remarks  that  if  Locke  has  such  a preju- 
dice as  this,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  rejects  innate 
ideas.  But  consciousness  and  mental  activity  are 
not  thus  identical.  To  go  no  farther,  the  mere 
empirical  fact  of  memory  is  sufficient  to  show  the 
falsity  of  such  an  idea.  Memory  reveals  that  we 
have  an  indefinite  amount  of  knowledge  of  which 
we  are  not  always  conscious.  Rather  than  that 
knowledge  and  consciousness  are  one,  it  is  true 
that  actual  consciousness  only  lays  hold  of  an 
infinitesimal  fraction  of  knowledge.  But  Leibuiz 
does  not  rely  upon  the  fact  of  memory  alone.  We 
must  constantly  keep  in  mind  that  to  Leibniz  the 
soul  is  not  a form  of  being  wholly  separate  from 
nature,  but  is  the  culmination  of  the  system  of 
reality.  The  reality  is  everywhere  the  monad,  and 
the  soul  is  the  monad  with  the  power  of  feeling, 
remembering,  and  connecting  its  ideas.  The  activ- 
ities of  the  monad,  those  representative  changes 
which  sum  up  and  symbolize  the  universe,  do  not 
cease  when  we  reach  the  soul.  They  are  continued. 
If  the  soul  has  the  power  of  attention,  they  are 
potentially  conscious.  Such  as  the  soul  actually 


LOCKE  AND  LEIBNIZ.  — INNATE  IDEAS.  85 


attends  to,  thus  giving  them  relief  and  making 
them  distinct,  are  actually  conscious.  But  all  of 
them  exist. 

Tims  it  is  that  Leibniz  not  only  denies  the  equiva- 
lence of  soul  and  consciousness,  but  asserts  that 
the  fundamental  error  of  the  psychology  of  the 
Cartesians  (and  here,  at  least,  Locke  is  a Cartesian) 
is  in  identifying  them.  He  asserts  that  “ uncon- 
scious ideas  ” are  of  as  great  importance  in  psychol- 
ogy as  molecules  are  in  physics.  They  are  the  link 
between  unconscious  nature  and  the  conscious  soul. 
Nothing  happens  all  at  once  ; nature  never  makes 
jumps  ; these  facts  stated  in  the  law  of  continuity 
necessitate  the  existence  of  activities,  which  may 
be  called  ideas,  since  they  belong  to  the  soul  and 
yet  are  not  in  consciousness. 

When,  therefore,  Locke  asks  how  an  innate  idea 
can  exist  and  the  soul  not  be  conscious  of  it,  the 
answer  is  at  hand.  The  “innate  idea”  exists  as 
an  activity  of  the  soul  by  which  it  represents  — that 
is,  expresses  — some  relation  of  the  universe,  al- 
though we  have  not  yet  become  conscious  of  what 
is  contained  or  enveloped  in  this  activity.  To  be- 
come conscious  of  the  innate  idea  is  to  lift  it  from 
the  sphere  of  nature  to  the  conscious  life  of  spirit. 
And  thus  it  is,  again,  that  Leibniz  can  assert  that  all 
ideas  whatever  proceed  from  the  depths  of  the  soul. 
It  is  because  it  is  the  very  being  of  the  soul  as  a 
monad  to  reflect  “ from  its  point  of  view  ” the  world. 
In  this  way  Leibniz  brings  the  discussion  regarding 
innate  ideas  out  of  the  plane  of  examination  into  a 


86 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


matter  of  psychological  fact  into  a consideration 
of  the  essential  nature  of  spirit.  An  innate  idea 
is  now  seen  to  be  one  of  the  relations  by  which  the 
soul  reproduces  some  relation  which  constitutes  the 
universe  of  reality,  and  at  the  same  time  realizes  its 
own  individual  nature.  It  is  one  reflection  from 
that  spiritual  mirror,  the  soul.  With  this  enlarged 
and  transformed  conception  of  an  idea  apt  to  be  so 
meagre  we  may  well  leave  the  discussion.  There 
lias  been  one  mind  at  least  to  which  the  phrase 
“innate  ideas”  meant  something  worth  contending 
for,  because  it  meant  something  real. 


i 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


87 


CHAPTER  Y. 

SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 
CAREFUL  study  of  the  various  theories  which 


have  been  held  concerning  sensation  would 
be  of  as  much  interest  and  importance  as  an  in- 
vestigation of  any  one  point  in  the  range  of  phi- 
losophy. In  the  theory  of  a philosopher  about 
sensation  we  have  the  reflex  of  his  fundamental 
category  and  the  clew  to  his  further  doctrine. 
Sensation  stands  on  the  border-line  between  the 
world  of  nature  and  the  realm  of  soul and  every 
advance  in  science,  every  development  of  philos- 
ophy, leaves  its  impress  in  a change  in  the  theory 
of  sensation.  Apparently  one  of  the  simplest  and 
most  superficial  of  questions,  in  reality  it  is  one  of 
the  most  difficult  and  far-reaching.  At  first  sight 
it  seems  as  if  it  were  a sufficient  account  of  sensa- 
tion to  say  that  an  object  affects  the  organ  of  sense, 
and  thus  impresses  upon  the  mind  the  quality  which 
it  possesses.  But  this  simple  statement  arouses  a 
throng  of  further  questions : How  is  it  possible 
that  one  substance,  — matter,  — should  affect  an- 
other,—mind?  How  can  a causal  relation  exist 
between  them?  Is  the  mind  passive  or  active  in 
this  impression?  How  can  an  object  convey  un- 
changed to  the  mind  a quality  which  it  possesses? 


88 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


Or  is  the  sensational  quale  itself  a product  of  the 
mind’s  activity?  If  so,  what  is  the  nature  of  the  ob- 
ject which  excites  the  sensation?  As  known,  it  is 
only  a collection  of  sensuous  qualities ; if  these 
are  purely  mental,  what  becomes  of  the  object? 
And  if  there  is  no  object  really  there,  what  is  it  - 
that  excites  the  sensation?  Such  questionings 
might  be  continued. almost  indefinitely;  but  those 
given  are  enough  to  show  that  an  examination  of 
the  nature  and  origin  of  sensation  introduces  us  to 
the  problems  of  the  relation  of  intelligence  and  the 
world ; to  the  problem  of  the  ultimate  constitution 
of  an  object  which  is  set  over  against  a subject 
and  which  affects  it ; and  to  the  problem  of  the 
nature  of  mind,  which  as  thus  affected  from  with- 
out must  be  limited  in  its  nature,  but  which  as 
bearer  of  the  whole  known  universe  must  be  in 
some  sense  infinite.  If  we  consider,  not  the  mode 
of  production  of  sensation,  but  its  relation  to  knowl- 
edge, we  find  philosophical  schools  divided  into  two, 
— Sensationalists,  and  Rationalists.  If  we  inquire 
into  its  functions,  we  find  that  the  empiricist  sees 
in  it  convincing  evidence  of  the  fact  that  all  knowl- 
edge originates  from  a source  extra  mentem ; that 
the  intellectual  idealist  finds  in  it  evidence  of  the 
gradual  transition  of  nature  into  spirit ; that  the 
ethical  idealist,  like  Kant  and  Fichte,  sees  in  it 
the  material  of  the  phenomenal  world,  -which  is 
necessary  in  its  opposition  to  the  rational  sphere 
in  order  that  there  may  occur  that  conflict  of  pure 
law  and  sensuous  impulse  which  alone  makes  mo- 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


-89 


rality  possible.  We  thus  realize  that  as  we  look 
at  the  various  aspects  of  sensation,  we  are  taken 
into  the  discussion  of  ontology,  of  the  theory  of 
knowledge  and  of  ethics. 

Locke  virtually  recognizes  the  extreme  importance 
of  the  doctrine  of  sensation,  and  his  second  book 
might  almost  be  entitled  “Concerning  the  Nature 
and  Products  of  Sensation.”  On  the  other  hand, 
one  of  the  most  characteristic  and  valuable  portions 
of  the  reply  of  Leibniz  is  in  his  development  of 
a theory  of  sensation  which  is  thoroughly  new, 
except  as  we  seek  for  its  germs  in  its  thoughts  of 
Plato  and  Aristotle.  According  to  Locke,  knowl- 
edge originates  from  two  sources,  — sensation  and 
reflection.  Sensations  are  “ the  impressions  made 
on  our  senses  by  outward  objects  that  are  extrinsic 
to  the  mind.”  When  the  mind  “comes  to  reflect 
on  its  own  operations  about  the  ideas  got  by  sen- 
sation, and  thereby  stores  itself  with  a new  set  of 
ideas,”  it  gets  ideas  of  reflection. 

If  we  leave  out  of  account  for  the  present  the 
ideas  of  reflection,  we  find  that  the  ideas  which  come 
through  sensation  have  two  main  characteristics. 
First,  in  having  sensations,  the  mind  is  passive  ; 
its  part  is  purely  receptive.  The  objects  impress 
themselves  upon  the  mind,  they  obtrude  into  con- 
sciousness, whether  the  mind  will  or  not.  There  is 
a purely  external  relation  existing  between  sensa- 
tion and  the  understanding.  The  ideas  are  offered 
to  the  mind,  and  the  understanding  cannot  refuse 
to  have  them,  cannot  change  them,  blot  them  out, 


DO 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


nor  create  them,  any  more  than  a mirror  can  refuse, 
alter,  or  obliterate  the  images  which  objects  produce 
in  it.  Sensation,  in  short,  is  a purely  passive  hav- 
ing of  ideas.  Secondly,  every  sensation  is  simple. 
Locke  would  say  of  sensations  what  Hume  said  of 
all  ideas,  — every  distinct  sensation  is  a separate 
existence.  Every  sensation  is  “ uncompounded, 
containing  nothing  but  one  uniform  appearance, 
not  being  distinguishable  into  different  ideas.” 
Knowledge  is  henceforth  a process  of  compound- 
ing, of  repeating,  comparing,  and  uniting  sensa- 
tion. Man’s  understanding  “reaches  no  further 
than  to  compound  and  divide  the  materials  that 
are  made  to  his  hand.” 

It  hardly  need  be  said  that  Locke  has  great  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  up  this  thoroughly  atomic  theory 
of  mind.  It  is  a theory  which  makes  all  relations 
external ; they  are,  as  Locke  afterwards  says,  “ su- 
perinduced ” upon  the  facts.  It  makes  it  impos- 
sible to  account  for  any  appearance  of  unity  and 
connection  among  ideas,  and  Locke  quietly,  and 
without  any  consciousness  of  the  contradiction  in- 
volved, introduces  certain  inherent  relations  into  the 
structure  of  the  ideas  when  he  comes  to  his  construc- 
tive work.  “ Existence  and  unity  are  two  ideas,”  he 
says,  “ that  are  suggested  to  the  understanding  by 
every  object  without,  and  every  idea  within.” 

At  other  places  he  introduces  the  idea  of  quality 
of  a substance,  effect  of  a cause,  continued  per- 
manence or  identity  into  a sensation,  as  necessary 
constituents  of  it ; thus  making  a sensation  a unity 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


91 


of  complex  elements  instead  of  an  isolated  bare 
notion.  How  far  he  could  have  got  on  in  his  ac- 
count of  knowledge  without  this  surreptitious  qual- 
ifying of  a professedly  simple  existence,  may  be 
seen  by  asking  what  would  be  the  nature  of  a sen- 
sation which  did  not  possess  existence  and  unity, 
and  which  was  not  conceived  as  the  quality  of  a 
thing  or  as  the  effect  of  an  external  reality. 

This  digression  has  been  introduced  at  this  point 
because  the  next  character  of  a sensation  which 
Locke  discusses  is  its  objective  character,  — its  re- 
lation to  the  object  which  produces  it.  To  discourse 
of  our  ideas  intelligibly,  he  says,  it  will  be  con- 
venient to  distinguish  them  as  they  are  ideas  in  our 
minds  and  as  they  are  modifications  of  matter  in 
the  bodies  that  cause  them.  In  other  words,  he 
gives  up  all  thought  of  considering  ideas  as  simply 
mental  modifications,  and  finds  it  necessary  to  take 
them  in  their  relations  to  objects. 

Taking  them  in  this  way,  he  finds  that  they  are 
to  be  divided  into  two  classes,  of  which  one  contains 
those  ideas  that  are  copies  and  resemblances  of 
qualities  in  the  objects,  ideas  “which  are  really  in 
the  object,  whether  we  take  notice  of  them  or  no,”  — 
in  which  case  we  have  an  idea  of  the  thing  as  it  is 
in  itself  ; while  the  other  class  contains  those  which 
are  in  no  way  resemblances  of  the  objects  which 
produce  them,  “having  no  more  similitude  than 
the  idea  of  pain  and  of  a sword.”  The  former  are 
primary  qualities,  and  are  solidity,  extension,  figure, 
motion  or  rest,  and  number ; while  the  secondary 


92 


• LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


qualities  are  colors,  smells,  and  tastes.  The  former 
ideas  are  produced  by  impulse  of  the  bodies  them- 
selves, which  simply  effect  a transference  of  their 
qualities  over  into  the  mind  ; while  the  secondary 
qualities  are  arbitrarily  annexed  by  the  power  of 
God  to  the  objects  which  excite  them. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  there  are  two  elements 
which  make  the  sensation  of  Locke  what  it  is. 
With  reference  to  its  production , it  is  the  effect 
which  one  substance,  matter,  has  upon  another  sub- 
stance, mind,  which  is  unlike  it  in  nature,  and  be- 
tween which  whatever  relations  exist,  are  thoroughly 
incomprehensible,  so  that,  indeed,  their  connections 
with  each  other  can  lie  understood  only  by  recourse 
to  a tertium  quid , an  omnipotent  power  which  can 
arbitrarily  produce  such  collocations  as  please  it. 
With  reference  to  its  function , it  is  the  isolated 
and  “ simple”  (that  is,  non-relational)  element  out 
of  which  all  actual  forms  of  knowledge  are  made  by 
composition  and  re-arrangement. 

Leibniz,  without  entering  into  explicit  criticism  of 
just  these  two  points,  develops  his  own  theory  with 
reference  to  them.  To  Leibniz,  reality  constitutes 
a system  ; that  is,  it  is  of  such  a nature  that  its 
various  portions  have  an  essential  and  not  merely 
external  relation  to  one  another.  Sensation  is  of 
course  no  exception.  It  is  not  a mere  accident, 
nor  yet  a supernatural  yoking  of  things  naturally 
opposed.  It  has  a meaning  in  that  connection  of 
things  which  constitute  the  universe.  It  contri- 
butes to  the  significance  of  the  world.  It  is  one 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


way  in  which  those  activities  which  make  the  real 
express  themselves.  It  has  its  place  or  reason  in 
the  totality  of  things,  and  this  whether  we  consider 
its  origin  or  its  position  with  regard  to  knowledge. 
In  a word,  while  the  characteristic  of  Locke’s  theory 
is  that  he  conceives  sensation  as  in  external  rela- 
tion both  to  reality,  as  mechanically  produced  by 
it,  and  to  knowledge,  as  being  merely  one  of  the 
atomic  elements  which  may  enter  into  a compound, 
Leibniz  regards  reality  as  organic  to  sensation,  and 
this  in  turn  as  organic  to  knowledge.  We  have 
here  simply  an  illustration  of  the  statement  with 
which  we  set  out ; namely,  that  the  treatment  of 
sensation  always  reflects  the  fundamental  philoso- 
phical category  of  the  philosopher. 

All  reality  exists  in  the  form  of  monads  ; mo- 
nads are  simple  substances  whose  nature  is  action  ; 
this  action  consists  in  representing,  according  to  a 
certain  law  of  succession,  the  universe.  Various 
monads  have  various  degrees  of  activity ; that  is, 
of  the  power  of  reflecting  the  world.  So  much  of 
Leibniz’s  general  philosophical  attitude  it  is  neces- 
sary to  recall,  to  understand  what  he  means  by 
“sensation.”  The  generic  name  which  is  applied 
to  this  mirroring  activity  of  the  monads  is  “per- 
ception,” which,  as  Leibniz  often  says,  is  to  be  care- 
fully distinguished  from  apperception,  which  is  the 
representation  become  conscious.  Perception  may 
be  defined,  therefore,  as  the  inclusion  of  the  many 
or  multiform  (the  world  of  objects)  in  a unity  (the 
simple  substance) . It  was  the  great  defect  of  pre- 


94 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


vious  philosophy  that  it  “ considered  only  spirits  or 
self-conscious  beings  as  souls,”  and  had  conse- 
quently recognized  only  conscious  perceptions.  It 
had  been  obliged,  therefore,  to  make  an  impassable 
gulf  between  mind  and  matter,  and  sensations  were 
thus  rendered  inexplicable.  But  Leibniz  finds  his 
function  as  a philosopher  in  showing  that  these  prob- 
lems, which  seem  insoluble,  arise  when  we  insist 
upon  erecting  into  actual  separations  or  differences 
of  kind  what  really  are  only  stages  of  develop- 
ment or  differences  of  degree.  A sensation  is  not 
an  effect  which  one  substance  impresses  upon 
another  because  God  pleased  that  it  should,  or 
because  of  an  incomprehensible  incident  in  the 
original  constitution  of  things.  It  is  a higher 
development  of  that  representative  power  which 
belongs  to  every  real  being. 

Certain  monads  reach  a state  of  development, 
or  manifestation  of  activity,  which  is  characterized 
by  the  possession  of  distinct  organs.  Such  monads 
may  be  called,  in  a pre-eminent  sense,  “ souls,”  and 
include  all  the  higher  animals  as  well  as  man.  This 
possession  of  differentiated  organs  finds  its  analogue 
in  the  internal  condition  of  the  monad.  What  ap- 
pears externally  as  an  organ  of  sense  appears 
ideally  as  a conscious  representative  state  which  we 
call  “ sensation.”  ‘‘  When,”  Leibniz  says,  “ the  mo- 
nad has  its  organs  so  developed  that  there  is  relief 
and  differentiation  in  the  impressions  received,  and 
consequently  in  the  perceptions  which  represent 
them,  we  have  feeling  or  sensation  ; that  is,  a per- 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


95 


ception  accompanied  by  memory,”  to  which  at  other 
times  he  adds  “attention.”  Life,  he  says,  “is 
a perceptive  principle  ; the  soul  is  sensitive  life  • 
mind  is  rational  soul.”  And  again  he  sa}Ts  in 
substance  that  when  the  soul  begins  to  have  in- 
terests, and  to  regard  one  representation  as  of  more 
value  than  others,  it  introduces  relief  into  its  per- 
ceptions, and  those  which  stand  out  are  called 
“ sensations.” 

This  origin  of  sensations  as  higher  developments 
of  the  representative  activities  of  a monad  condi- 
tions their  relation  to  further  processes  of  knowl- 
edge. The  sensations  are  confused  knowledge ; 
they  are  ideas  in  their  primitive  and  most  undiffer- 
entiated form.  They  constitute,  as  Leibniz  some- 
where says,  the  vertigo  of  the  conscious  life.  In 
every  sentient  organism  multitudes  of  sensations 
are  constantly  thronging  in  and  overpowering  its 
distinct  consciousness.  The  soul  is  so  flooded 
with  ideas  of  everything  in  the  world  which  lias 
any  relation  to  its  body  that  it  has  distinct  ideas  of 
nothing.  Higher  knowledge,  then,  does  not  consist 
in  compounding  these  sensations ; that  would  lit- 
erally make  confusion  worse  confounded.  It  con- 
sists in  introducing  distinctness  into  the  previously 
confused  sensations,  — in  finding  out  what  they 
mean  ; that  is,  in  finding  out  their  bearings,  what 
they  point  to,  and  how  they  are  related.  Knowl- 
edge is  not  an  external  process  performed  upon  the 
sensations,  it  is  the  development  of  their  internal 
content. 


96 


leibniz’s  new  Essays. 


It  follows,  therefore,  that  sensation  is  organic  to 
all  forms  of  knowledge  whatever.  The  monad, 
which  is  pure  activity,  that  which  culminates  the 
scale  of  reality,  has  no  confused  ideas,  and  to  it  all 
knowledge  is  eternally  rational,  having  no  sensible 
traces  about  it.  But  every  other  monad,  having  its 
activity  limited,  has  ideas  which  come  to  it  at  first 
in  a confused  way,  and  which  its  activity  afterwards 
differentiates.  Thus  it  is  that  Leibniz  can  agree  so 
heartily  with  the  motto  of  the  .Sensationalist  school, 

— that  there  is  nothing  in  the  intellect  which  was  not 
first  in  the  sensory.  But  Leibniz  uses  this  phrase 
as  Aristotle  would  have  done,  having  in  mind  the 
distinction  between  potentiality  and  actuality.  In 
posse,  sensation  is  all  knowledge  ; but  only  in  posse. 
And  he,  like  Aristotle,  interprets  the  relation  between 
potentiality  and  actuality  as  one  of  a difference  of 
activity.  The  potential  is  that  which  becomes  real 
through  a dynamic  process.  The  actual  is  capacity 
plus  action.  Sensation,  in  short,  is  spiritual  activ- 
ity in  an  undeveloped  and  hence  partial  and  limited 
condition.  It  is  not,  as  Locke  would  have  it,  the 
real  factor  in  all  knowledge. 

The  marks  of  sensation  which  Locke  lays  down, 

— their  passivity,  their  simplicity,  their  position 
as  the  real  element  in  knowledge,  — Leibniz  either 
denies,  therefore,  or  accepts  in  a sense  different 
from  that  of  Locke.  Strictly  speaking,  sensation 
is  an  activity  of  the  mind.  There  are  no  win- 
dows through  which  the  soul  receives  impressions. 
Pure  passivity  of  any  kind  is  a myth,  as  scliolas- 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


97 


tic  fiction.  Sensation  is  developed  from  the  soul 
within ; it  is  the  activity  of  reality  made  mani- 
fest to  itself.  It  is  a higher  kind  of  action  than 
anything  we  find  in  minerals  or  in  plants.  If  we 
look  at  sensation  ideally,  however,  that  is,  according 
to  the  position  which  it  holds  in  the  system  of 
knowledge,  it  is  properly  regarded  as  passive.  It 
represents  the  limitation,  the  unrealized  (that  is, 
the  non-active)  side  of  spiritual  life. 

“ Efficient  causality  ” is  a term  which  has  its  right- 
ful and  legitimate  use  in  physical  science.  Simply 
from  the  scientific  point  of  view  we  are  correct 
in  speaking  of  objects  as  affecting  the  body,  and 
the  body,  through  its  nervous  system,  as  affecting 
the  soul  and  producing  sensations.  But  philos- 
ophy does  not  merely  use  categories,  it  explains 
them.  And  Leibniz  contends  that  to  explain  the 
category  of  causality  in  a mechanical  sense,  to 
understand  by  it  physical  influence  actually  trans- 
ferred from  one  thing  to  another,  is  to  make  the 
idea  inexplicable  and  irrational.  The  true  meaning 
of  causality  is  ideal.  It  signifies  the  relative  posi- 
tions which  the  objects  concerned  have  in  the  har- 
monious system  of  reality.  The  body  that  is  higher 
in  the  scale  impresses  the  other ; that  is  to  say,  it 
dominates  it  or  gives  its  law.  There  is  no  energy  or 
quality  which  passes  physically  from  one  to  the  other. 
But  one  monad,  as  higher  in  the  stage  of  devel- 
opment than  another,  makes  an  ideal  demand  upon 
that  one.  It  places  before  the  other  its  own  more 
real  condition.  The  less-developed  monad,  since  its 


98 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


whole  activity  consists  in  representing  the  universe 
of  reality,  answers  to  this  demand  by  developing 
the  corresponding  quality  in  itself.  The  category 
of  harmonious  or  co-operative  action  is  thus  substi- 
tuted for  that  of  external  and  mechanical  influence. 
Physical  causality  when  given  a philosophic  inter- 
pretation means  organic  development.  The  reality 
of  a higher  stage  is  the  more  active : the  more 
active  has  a greater  content  in  that  it  mirrors  the 
universe  more  fully  ; it  manifests  accordingly  more 
of  the  law  of  the  universe,  and  hence  has  an  ideal 
domination  over  that  which  is  lower  in  the  scale. 
It  is  actually  (that  is,  in  activity)  what  the  other  is 
potentially.  But  as  the  entire  existence  of  the  lat- 
ter is  in  representing  or  setting  forth  the  relations 
which  make  the  world,  its  activity  is  aroused  to 
a corresponding  production.  Hence  the  former  is 
called  “ cause,”  and  the  latter  “ effect.” 

This  introduces  us  to  the  relation  of  soul  and 
body,  or,  more  generally  stated,  to  the  relation  of 
mind  and  matter.  It  is  the  theory  of  co-operation, 
of  harmonious  activity,  which  Leibniz  substitutes 
for  the  theory  which  Descartes  had  formulated,  ac- 
cording to  which  there  are  two  opposed  substances 
which  can  affect  each  other  only  through  the  medium 
of  a deus  ex  machina.  Locke,  on  the  other  hand, 
took  the  Cartesian  principle  for  granted,  and  thus 
enveloped  himself  in  all  the  difficulties  which  sur- 
round the  question  of  “ mind  and  matter.”  Locke 
wavers  between  two  positions,  one  of  which  is  that 
there  are  two  unknown  substances,  — the  soul  and 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


99 


the  object  in  itself,  — which,  coming  in  contact, 
produce  sensations  ; while  the  other  takes  the  hy- 
pothetical attitude  that  there  may  be  but  one 
substance,  — matter,  — and  that  God,  out  of  the 
plenitude  of  his  omnipotence,  has  given  matter  a 
capacity  which  does  not  naturally  belong  to  it,  — that 
of  producing  sensations.  In  either  case,  however, 
the  final  recourse  is  to  the  arbitrary  power  of  God. 
There  is  no  natural  — that  is,  intrinsic  and  explicable 

— connection  between  the  sensation  and  that  which 
produces  it.  Sensation  occupied  the  hard  position 
which  the  mechanical  school  of  to-day  still  allots  it. 
It  is  that  “inexplicable,”  “mysterious,”  “unac- 
countable ” link  between  the  domains  of  matter  and 
mind  of  which  no  rational  account  can  be  given, 
but  which  is  yet  the  source  of  all  that  we  know 
about  matter,  and  the  basis  of  all  that  is  real  in 
the  mind  ! 

Leibniz,  recognizing  that  reality  is  an  organic 
whole,  — not  two  parts  with  a chasm  between  them, 

— says  that  “God  does  not -arbitrarily  give  sub- 
stances whatever  qualities  may  happen,  or  that  he 
may  arbitrarily  determine,  but  only  such  as  are  nat- 
ural ; that  is,  such  as  are  related  to  one  another  in  an 
explicable  way  as  modifications  of  the  substance.”  / 
Leibniz  feels  sure  that  to  introduce  the  idea  of  the 
inexplicable,  the  purely  supernatural,  into  the  natural 
is  to  give  up  all  the  advantages  which  the  modern  me- 
chanical theory  had  introduced,  and  to  relapse  into 
the  meaningless  features  of  scholasticism.  If  the 
“ supernatural”  — that  is,  the  essentially  inexplica- 


100 


LEIBNIZS  NEW  ESSAYS. 


ble  — is  introduced  in  this  one  case,  why  should  it 
not  be  in  others  ; why  should  we  not  return  outright 
to  the  “ fanatic  philosophy  which  explains  all  facts 
by  simply  attributing  them  to  God  immediately  or 
by  way  of  miracle,  or  to  the  barbarian  philosophy, 
which  explains  phenomena  by  manufacturing,  ad 
hoc , occult  qualities  or  faculties,  seemingly  like  lit- 
tle demons  or  spirits  capable  of  performing,  with- 
out ceremony,  whatever  is  required,  — as  if  watches 
marked  time  by  their  horodeictic  power,  without 
wheels,  and  mills  ground  grain,  without  grind- 
stones, by  their  tractive  power”?  In  fact,  says 
Leibniz,  by  introducing  the  inexplicable  into  our 
explanations  “we  fall  into  something  worse  than 
occult  qualities,  — we  give  up  philosophy  and  rea- 
son ; we  open  asylums  for  ignorance  and  laziness, 
holding  not  only  that  there  are  qualities  which  we 
do  not  understand  (there  are,  indeed,  too  many 
such),  but  qualities  which  the  greatest  intelligence, 
if  God  gave  it  all  the  insight  possible,  could  not 
understand,  — that  is,  such  as  are  in  themselves  with- 
out rhyme  or  reason.  And  indeed  it  would  be  a 
thing  without  rhyme  or  reason  that  God  should 
perform  miracles  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.” 
And  regarding  the  whole  matter  of  introducing  the 
inconceivable  and  the  inexplicable  into  science,  he 
says  that  “ while  the  conception  of  men  is  not  the 
measure  of  God’s  power,  their  capacity  of  concep- 
tion is  the  measure  of  nature's  power,  since  every- 
thing occurring  in  the  natural  order  is  capable  of 
being  understood  by  the  created  intelligence.”  Such 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


101 


being  the  thought  of  Leibniz  regarding  the  virtual 
attempt  to  introduce  in  his  day  the  unknowable  into 
philosophy,  it  is  evident  that  he  must  reject,  from 
the  root  up,  all  theories  of  sensation  which,  like 
Locke’s,  make  it  the  product  of  the  inexplicable 
intercourse  of  two  substances. 

For  this  doctrine,  then,  Leibniz  substitutes  that 
of  an  infinite  number  of  substances,  all  of  the  same 
kind,  all  active,  all  developing  from  within,  all  con- 
spiring to  the  same  end,  but  of  various  stages  of 
activity,  or  bearing  various  relations  of  complete- 
ness to  the  one  end. 

Indeed,  one  and  the  same  monad  has  various 
degrees  of  activity  in  itself ; that  is,  it  represents 
more  or  less  distinctly  the  universe  according  to  its 
point  of  view.  Its  point  of  view  requires  of  it,  of 
course,  primarily,  a representation  of  that  which  is 
about  it.  Thus  an  infinity  of  states  arises,  each 
corresponding  to  some  one  of  the  multitude  of  ob- 
jects surrounding  the  monad.  The  soul  has  no  con- 
trol, no  mastery,  over  these  states.  It  has  to  take 
them  as  they  come  ; with  regard  to  them,  the  soul 
appears  passive.  It  appears  so  because  it  does  not 
as  yet  clearly  distinguish  them.  It  does  not  react 
upon  them  and  become  conscious  of  their  meaning 
or  thoroughly  rational  character.  We  shall  after- 
wards see  that  “matter”  is,  with  Leibniz,  simply 
this  passive  or  confused  side  of  monads.  It  is  the 
monad  so  far  as  it  has  not  brought  to  light  the 
rational  activity  which  is  immanent  in  it.  At  pres- 
ent we  need  only  notice  that  the  body  is  simply  the 


102 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


part  of  matter  or  of  passivity  which  limits  the  com- 
plete activity  of  any  monad.  So  Leibniz  says,  “ in 
so  far  as  the  soul  has  perfection,  it  has  distinct 
thoughts,  and  God  has  accommodated  the  body  to 
the  soul.  So  far  as  it  is  imperfect  and  its  per- 
ceptions are  confused,  God  has  accommodated  the 
soul  to  the  body  in  such  a way  that  the  soul  lets 
itself  be  inclined  by  the  passions,  which  are  born 
from  corporeal  representations.  It  is  by  its  con- 
fused thoughts  (sensations)  that  the  soul  represents 
the  bodies  about  it,”  just  as,  we  may  add,  its  dis- 
tinct thoughts  represent  the  monads  or  souls  about 
it,  and,  in  the  degree  of  their  distinctness,  God,  the 
monad  which  is  purus  actus. 

Following  the  matter  into  more  detail,  we  may 
say  that  since  God  alone  is  pure  energy,  knowing 
no  limitation,  God  alone  is  pure  spirit.  Every 
finite  soul  is  joined  to  an  organic  body.  “ I do  not 
admit,”  says  Leibniz,  “ that  there  are  souls  entirely 
separate  from  matter,  nor  created  spirits  detached 
from  body.  . . . It  is  this  body  which  the  monad  rep- 
resents most  distinctly;  but  since  this  body  expresses 
the  entire  universe  by  the  connection  of  all  matter 
throughout  it,  the  soul  represents  the  entire  universe 
in  representing  the  body  which  belongs  to  it  most 
particularly.”  But  according  to  the  principle  of 
continuity  there  must  be  in  the  least  apparent  por- 
tion of  matter  still  “ a universe  of  creatures,  of 
souls,  of  entelechies.  There  is  nothing  sterile, 
nothing  dead  in  the  universe.  It  is  evident  from 
these  considerations  that  every  living  body  has  a 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


103 


dominant  entelechy,  which  is  the  soul  in  that  body, 
but  that  the  members  of  this  living  body  are  again 
full  of  other  living  beings  and  souls,”  which,  how- 
ever, since  not  of  so  high  a grade,  that  is,  not 
representing  the  universe  so  fully,  appear  to  be 
wholly  material  and  subject  to  the  “ dominant”  en- 
telechy ; namely,  to  the  one  which  gives  the  law  to 
the  others  by  expressing  more  adequately  the  idea 
at  which  they  only  confusedly  aim.  Owing  to  the 
constant  change  of  activity,  however,  these  particles 
do  not  remain  in  constant  subordination  to  the 
same  entelechy  (that  is,  do  not  form  parts  of  the 
same  body) , but  pass  on  to  higher  or  lower  degrees 
of  “ evolution,”  and  have  their  places  taken  by  others 
undergoing  similar  processes  of  change.  Thus  “ all 
bodies  are  in  a perpetual  flux,  like  rivers,  with  parts 
continually  leaving  and  entering  in.”  Or,  inter- 
preting this  figurative  language,  each  monad  is  con- 
tinually, in  its  process  of  development,  giving  law 
to  new  and  less  developed  monads,  which  therefore 
appear  as  its  body.  The  nature  of  matter  in  itself, 
and  of  its  phenomenal  manifestation  in  the  body, 
are,  however,  subjects  which  find  no  explanation 
here,  and  which  will  demand  explanation  in  another 
chapter. 

We  may  sum  up  Leibniz's  theory  of  sensation  by 
saying  that  it  is  a representative  state  developed  by 
the  self-activity  of  the  soul ; that  in  itself  it  is  a 
confused  or  “involved”  grade  of  activity,  and  in 
its  relation  to  the  world  represents  the  confused  or 
passive  aspects  of  existence  ; that  this  limitation  of 


104 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


the  monad  constitutes  matter,  and  in  its  necessary 
connection  with  the  monad  constitutes  the  body 
which  is  always  joined  to  the  finite  soul ; that  to 
this  body  are  joined  in  all  cases  an  immense  num- 
ber of  monads,  whose  action  is  subordinate  to  that 
of  this  dominant  monad,  and  that  it  is  the  collec- 
tion of  these  which  constitute  the  visible  animal 
body.  Thus  if  we  look  at  sensation  with  regard  to 
the  monad  which  possesses  it,  it  is  a product  of  the 
body  of  the  monad  ; if  we  look  at  it  with  reference 
to  other  monads,  it  represents  or  reflects  their  pas- 
sive or  material  side.  This  is  evidently  one  aspect 
again  of  the  pre-established  harmony,  — an  aspect 
in  which  some  of  the  narrower  of  Leibniz’s  critics 
have  seen  the  whole  meaning  of  the  doctrine  ex- 
hausted. It  is,  however,  simply  one  of  the  many 
forms  in  which  the  harmony,  the  union  of  spiritual 
and  mechanical,  ideal  and  material,  meets  us.  In 
truth,  while  in  other  systems  the  fact  of  sensation 
is  a fact  demanding  some  artificial  mode  of  reconcil- 
ing “ mind  ” and  “ matter,”  or  is  else  to  be  accepted 
as  an  inexplicable  fact,  in  the  system  of  Leibniz 
it  is  itself  evidence  that  the  spiritual  and  the  me- 
chanical are  not  two  opposed  kinds  of  existence, 
but  are  organically  united.  It  is  itself  the  manifes- 
tation of  the  harmony  of  the  ideal  and  the  material, 
not  something  which  requires  that  a factitious  theory 
be  invented  for  explaining  their  appearance  of  har- 
mony. Sensation  has  within  itself  the  ideal  element, 
for  it  is  the  manifestation,  in  its  most  undeveloped 
form,  of  the  spiritual  meaning  of  the  universe.  It 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


105 


has  a mechanical  element,  for  it  expresses  the  limi- 
tation, the  passivity,  of  the  monad. 

It  is  from  this  standpoint  that  Leibniz  criticises 
what  Locke  says  about  the  relation  of  sensations 
to  the  objects  which  produce  them.  Leibniz  holds 
that  all  our  sensations  have  a definite  and  natural 
connection  with  the  qualities  of  objects,  — the  “ sec- 
ondary ” as  well  as  the  “ primary.”  They  all  rep- 
resent certain  properties  of  the  object.  Even  the 
pain  which  the  thrust  of  a needle  gives  us,  while  it 
does  not  resemble  anything  in  the  needle,  does  in 
some  way  represent  or  resemble  motions  going  on 
in  our  body.  This  resemblance  is  not  necessarily 
one  of  exact  form,  but  just  as  the  ellipse,  hyperbola, 
and  parabola  are  projections  of  the  circle  in  the 
sense  that  there  is  a natural  and  fixed  law  of  con- 
nection between  them,  so  that  every  point  of  one 
corresponds  by  a certain  relation  with  every  point 
of  the  other,  so  the  resemblance  between  the  sensa- 
tion and  the  quality  of  the  object  is  always  in  the 
form  of  a fixed  law  of  order,  which,  however  un- 
known to  us  it  may  now  be,  is  capable  of  being 
found  out.  If  we  are  to  make  any  distinction  be- 
tween “secondary”  and  “primary”  sensations,  it 
should  be  not  that  one  presents  qualities  that  are  in 
the  objects,  and  the  other  affections  which  exist  only 
in  us,  but  that  the  primary  sensations  (of  number, 
form,  size,  etc.)  represent  the  qualities  in  a dis- 
tinct way,  appealing  to  the  rational  activity  of 
intelligence,  while  the  secondary  represent  the  qual- 
ities in  a confused  way,  a way  not  going  beyond 


106 


leirniz’s  new  essays 


the  effect  upon  the  mind  into  relations,  that  is,  into 
distinct  knowledge. 

This  brings  regularly  before  us  the  question  of 
the  relation  of  sensations  to  knowledge.  We  have 
seen  enough  already  to  know  that  Leibniz  does  not 
believe  that  knowledge  begins  with  the  simple  (that 
is,  unrelated),  and  then  proceeds  by  a process  of 
compounding.  The  sensation  is  not  simple  to  Leib- 
niz, but  thoroughly  complex,  involving  confusedly 
within  itself  all  possible  relations.  As  relations  are 
brought  forth  into  distinct  light  out  of  this  confusion, 
knowledge  ends  rather  than  begins  with  the  simple. 
And  again  it  is  evident  that  Leibniz  cannot  believe 
that  knowledge  begins  and  ends  in  experience,  in 
the  sense  in  which  both  himself  and  Locke  use  the 
word  ; namely,  as  meaning  the  combination  and  suc- 
cession of  impressions. 

“ Experience,”  as  they  use  the  term,  consists  in 
sensations  and  their  association,  — “ consecution  ” as 
Leibniz  calls  it.  Experience  is  the  stage  of  knowl- 
edge reached  by  animals,  and  in  which  the  majority 
of  men  remain,  — and  indeed  all  men  in  the  greater 
part  of  their  knowledge.  Leibniz  takes  just  the 
same  position  regarding  the  larger  part  of  our 
knowledge  which  Hume  takes  regarding  it  all.  It 
consists  simply  in  associations  of  such  a nature  that 
when  one  part  recurs  there  is  a tendency  to  expect 
the  recurrence  of  the  other  member.  It  resembles 
reason,  but  it  is  based  on  the  accidental  experience 
of  events  in  a consecutive  order,  and  not  on  knowl- 
edge of  their  causal  connection.  We  all  expect  the 


SENSATION  AND  EXPERIENCE. 


107 


suu  to  rise  to-morrow  ; but  with  all  of  us,  excepting 
the  astronomer,  such  expectation  is  purely  “ empir- 
ical,” being  based  on  the  images  of  past  experiences 
which  recur.  The  astronomer,  however,  sees  into 
the  grounds,  that  is,  the  reasons,  of  the  expectation, 
and  hence  his  knowledge  is  rational. 

Thus  we  have  two  grades  of  knowledge,  — one  em- 
pirical, consisting  of  knowledge  of  facts  ; the  other 
rational,  being  of  the  truths  of  reason.  The  former 
is  contingent  and  particular,  the  latter  is  necessary 
and  universal.  Leibniz  insists,  wdth  a pertinacity 
which  reminds  us  of  Kant,  that  “experience”  can 
give  instances  or  examples  only,  and  that  the  fact  that 
anything  has  happened  in  a given  way  any  number 
of  times  in  the  past,  can  give  no  assurance  that  it 
will  continue  to  do  so  in  the  future.  There  is 
nothing  in  the  nature  of  the  case  which  renders  its 
exact  opposite  impossible.  But  a rational  truth  is 
necessary,  for  its  opposite  is  impossible,  being  irra- 
tional or  meaningless.  This  may  not  always  lie 
evident  in  the  case  of  a complex  rational  truth  ; but 
if  it  be  analyzed  into  simpler  elements,  as  a geo- 
metrical proposition  into  definitions,  axioms,  and 
postulates,  the  absurdity  of  its  opposite  becomes 
evident.  Sensation,  in  conclusion,  is  the  having  of 
confused  ideas,  — ideas  corresponding  to  matter. 
Experience  is  the  association  of  these  confused 
ideas,  and  then-  association  according  to  their  ac- 
cidental juxtaposition  in  the  life  of  the  soul.  It 
therefore  is  not  only  thoroughly  sensible,  but  is 
also  phenomenal.  Its  content  is  sensations  ; its  form 


108 


LEIBNIZ'S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


is  contingent  and  particular  consecution.  Both  form 
and  content,  accordingly,  need  to  be  reconstructed 
if  they  are  to  be  worthy  of  the  name  of  science  or 
of  knowledge.  This  is  the  position  which  Leibniz 
assumes  as  against  the  empiricist,  Locke.  The  de- 
tails of  this  reconstruction,  its  method  and  result, 
we  must  leave  till  we  come  in  the  course  of  the 
argument  again  to  the  subject  of  knowledge. 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


109 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


OCKE,  after  discussing  the  subject  of  innate 


ideas  in  their  relation  to  knowledge,  goes  on 
to  discuss  their  practical  side,  or  connection  with 
will.  We  shall  follow  him  in  this  as  Leibniz  does; 
but  we  shall  consider  in  connection  with  this,  Leib- 
niz’s general  theory  of  will,  which  is  developed 
partially  in  this  chapter,  but  more  completely  in  his 
critical  remarks  upon  what  Locke  has  to  say  of  the 
notion  of  “power.”  Since  the  theory  of  morals  is 
as  closely  connected  with  will  as  the  theory  of 
knowledge  is  with  the  intellect,  we  shall  supplement 
this  discussion  with  what  Leibniz  says  upon  the 
ethical  question,  drawing  our  material  somewhat 
freely  from  his  other  writings. 

The  doctrine  of  will  which  Leibniz  propounds  is  in 
closest  harmony  with  his  conception  of  intelligence, 
and  this  not  merely  in  the  way  of  empirical  juxta- 
position, but  as  the  result  of  his  fundamental  prin- 
ciples. If  we  recall  what  has  been  said  concerning 
the  monad,  we  shall  remember  that  it  is  an  activity, 
but  an  activity  with  a content.  It  is  a force,  but  a 
force  which  mirrors  the  universe.  The  content, 
that  portion  of  reality  which  is  reflected  in  the  ac- 
tion, is  knowledge,  or  the  idea ; the  activity  which 


no 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


brings  this  about  is  will,  or  the  volition.  They  are 
related  to  each  other  as  form  and  content.  There 
is,  strictly  speaking,  no  “ state  ” of  mind  ; there  is 
only  a tension,  a pushing  forward  of  mind.  There 
is  no  idea  which  is  not  a volition.  Will  is  thus  used, 
in  a very  broad  sense,  as  equivalent  to  action. 
Since,  however,  the  activity  of  the  monad  is  in  no 
case  aimless,  but  has  an  end  in  view,  the  will  is 
not  more  activity  in  general,  it  is  action  towards 
some  definite  end.  And  since  the  end  at  which 
the  monad  aims  is  always  the  development  of  an 
idea,  the  reflection  of  some  constituent  of  the  uni- 
verse, the  will  is  always  directed  towards  and  deter- 
mined by  some  idea  of  t he  intellect. 

We  have  seen,  however,  that  there  are  various 
stages  in  the  reflecting  power  of  the  soul,  or  in  the 
realization  of  intellect.  Taking  only  the  broadest 
division,  there  are  perception  and  apperception ; 
that  is,  there  are  the  conscious  and  the  unconscious 
mirroring  of  reality.  We  shall  expect,  then,  to  find 
two  corresponding  stages  of  volition.  Leibniz  calls 
these  stages  “ appetition  ” and  “ volition  ” in  the  nar- 
rower sense.  The  constant  tendency  in  every  monad 
to  go  from  one  perception  to  another,  — that  is,  the 
following  of  the  law  of  development, — constitutes 
appetition.  If  joined  to  feeling,  it  constitutes  in- 
stinct. Since,  again,  there  are  two  degrees  of  .ap- 
perception, one  of  empirical,  the  other  of  rational, 
consciousness,  we  shall  expect  to  find  two  grades  of 
volition,  proper,  — one  corresponding  to  action  for 
conscious  particular  ends  ; the  other  for  ends  which 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  'WILL. 


Ill 


are  proposed  by  reason,  and  are  hence  universal. 
In  this  chapter  we  shall  simply  expand  and  illus- 
trate these  various  propositions. 

Sensations,  looked  at  not  as  to  what  they  repre- 
sent, but  in  themselves,  are  impulses.  As  such  they 
constitute  the  lowest  stage  of  will.  Impulsive  ac- 
tion then  includes  all  such  as  occurs  for  an  end 
which  is  unknown,  or  at  best  but  dimly  felt.  Such 
action  may  be  called  blind,  not  in  the  sense  that 
it  is  without  reason,  but  in  the  sense  that  reason  is 
not  consciously  present.  We  are  not  to  think  of 
this  instinctive  action,  however,  as  if  it  were  found 
simply  in  the  animals.  Much  of  human  action  is 
also  impulsive  ; probably,  indeed,  an  impulsive  fac- 
tor is  contained  in  our  most  rational  willing.  We 
are  never  able  to  take  complete  account  of  the 
agencies  which  are  acting  upon  us.  Along  with  the 
reasons  of  which  we  are  conscious  in  choosing,  there 
are  mingled  faint  memories  of  past  experience,  sub- 
conscious solicitations  of  the  present,  dim  expecta- 
tions for  the  future.  Such  elements  are  decisive 
factors  far  more  than  we  realize. 

Indeed,  it  is  because  of  the  extent  to  which  such 
unconscious  influences  bear  upon  us  and  move  us 
that  there  arises  the  idea  of  indifferent  or  unmoti- 
vated choice.  Were  both  motive  and  choice  un- 
conscious, the  question  as  to  whether  choice  were 
antecedently  determined  would  not  arise  ; and  were 
our  motives  and  their  results  wholly  in  consciousness, 
the  solution  of  the  question  would  be  evident.  But 
when  we  are  conscious  of  our  choice,  but  are  not 


112 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


conscious  of  our  impulses  and  motives,  we  get  the 
impression  that  our  choice  is  unmotived,  and  hence 
come  to  believe  in  “indifferent  freedom,”  — the 
ability  to  choose  as  we  will. 

We  shall  shortly  take  up  in  more  detail  the 
theory  of  Leibniz  regarding  the  freedom  of  will ; 
and  it  is  needful  here  to  remark  only  that  the  con- 
ception which  makes  it  consist  in  ability  to  choose 
without  reason  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  his  fun- 
damental thought,  — namely,  that  there  can  be  no 
activity  which  does  not  aim  at  some  reflection  of 
the  universe,  by  which,  therefore,  it  is  determined. 
From  the  psychological  point  of  view,  it  is  interest- 
ing also  to  notice  how  Leibniz’s  theory  of  uncon- 
scious ideas  enables  him  to  dispose  of  the  strongest 
argument  for  indifferent  choice,  — that  drawn  from 
the  immediate  “ testimony”  of  consciousness. 

Upon  the  origin  and  nature  of  desires  Leibniz  has 
much  more  to  say  than  about  the  impulses.  His  ac- 
count of  the  transition  from  impulse  to  desire  is  based 
upon  the  conception  of  unconscious  ideas.  Slight 
and  imperceptible  impulses  are  working  upon  us  all 
the  time.  Indeed,  they  are  a necessity ; for  the 
actual  state  of  a soul  or  monad  at  any  time  is,  of 
course,  one  of  incompleteness.  Our  nature  must 
always  work  to  free  itself  from  its  hindrances  and 
obtain  its  goal  of  complete  development.  But  it 
will  not  do  this  unless  there  is  some  stimulus,  some 
solicitation  to  induce  it  to  overcome  its  limitation. 
There  is  found  accordingly  in  our  every  condition  a 
feeling  of  dissatisfaction,  or,  using  Locke’s  word,  of 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


113 


“ uneasiness  ; ” and  it  is  this  which  calls  forth  that 
activity  which  brings  about  a nearer  approach  to  the 
soul’s  real  good.  But  Leibniz  differs  from  Locke  in 
saying  that  this  feeling  of  uneasiness  is  not  a dis- 
tinct, or  even  in  most  cases  a conscious,  one.  It  is 
not  pain,  although  it  differs  from  pain  only  in  de- 
gree. Uneasiness  and  pain  are  related  to  each  other 
as  appetite  for  food  is  to  hunger,  — the  first  suffices 
to  stimulate  us  to  satisfaction,  but  if  the  want  is 
not  met,  results  in  actual  pain  ; if  met,  these  “ half 
pains  ” become  tributary  to  pleasure  itself.  These 
unconscious  stimuli  to  action  result  in  actions  which 
meet  the  want,  and  the  aggregation  of  these  satis- 
factions results  in  pleasure.  In  Leibniz’s  own 
words  : — 

“ If  these  elements  of  pain  were  themselves  true 
pains,  we  should  always  be  in  a state  of  misery,  even  in 
pursuing  the  good.  But  since  there  is  always  going 
on  a summation  of  minute  successes  in  overcoming 
these  states  of  uneasiness,  and  these  put  us  more 
and  more  at  ease,  there  comes  about  a decided, 
pleasure,  which  often  has  greater  value  even  than 
the  enjoyment  of  the  good.  Far,  then,  from  regard- 
ing this  uneasiness  as  a thing  incompatible  with 
happiness,  I find  that  it  is  an  essential  condition  of 
our  happiness.  For  this  does  not  consist  in  per- 
fect possession,  which  would  make  us  insensible  and 
stupid,  but  in  a constant  progress  towards  greater 
results,  which  must  always  be  accompanied,  accord- 
ingly, by  this  element  of  desire  or  uneasiness.” 

And  again  he  says  that  “ we  enjoy  all  the  advan- 


114 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


tages  of  pain  without  any  of  its  inconveniences.  If 
t he  uneasiness  should  become  too  distinct,  we  should 
lie  miserable  in  our  awaiting  the  good  which  relieves 
it ; but  as  it  is,  there  is  a constant  victory  over  these 
half-pains,  which  we  always  find  in  desire,  and  this 
gives  us  a quantity  of  half-pleasures,  whose  contin- 
uance and  summation  (for  they  acquire  force  like  a 
moving  body  as  it  falls)  result  in  a whole  and  true 
pleasure.”  In  short,  there  is  indeed  an  element  of 
pain  in  all  desire  which  stimulates  us  to  action,  and 
therefore  to  higher  development.  But  ordinarily 
this  element  of  pain  is  not  present  as  such  in  con- 
sciousness, but  is  absorbed  in  the  pleasure  which 
accompanies  the  realization  of  the  higher  good. 
Thus  Leibniz,  accepting  and  emphasizing  the  very 
same  fact  that  served  Schopenhauer  as  a psycho- 
logical base  of  pessimism,  uses  it  as  a foundation- 
stone  of  optimism. 

But  desire,  or  the  conscious  tendency  towards 
something  required  as  a good,  accompanied  by  the 
dim  feeling  of  uneasiness  at  its  absence,  does  not 
yet  constitute  the  complete  act  of  volition.  “Sev- 
eral impulses  and  inclinations  meet  in  forming  the 
complete  volition  which  is  the  result  of  their  con- 
flict.” In  the  concrete  act  of  will  there  are  con- 
tained impulses  which  push  us  towards  some  end 
whose  nature  is  not  known  ; there  is  desire  botli  in 
its  inchoate  stage,  where  pleasure  and  pain  are  not 
in  consciousness,  and  in  its  formed  state,  where  the 
pain  and  pleasure  are  definitely  presented.  Mixed 
with  these  desires  and  impulses  are  images  of  past 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


115 


experiences  which  call  up  the  feelings  which  were  for- 
merly attached  to  them,  and  thus  there  are  aroused 
indirectly  additional  impulses  and  desires.  Out 
of  this  complicated  mass  of  impulses,  desires,  and 
feelings,  both  original  and  reproduced,  comes  the 
“ dominant  effort”  which  constitutes  complete  will. 
Hut  what  governs  the  production  of  this  prevailing 
or  dominant  effort,  which  we  may  interpret  as  the 
act  of  choice  ? The  answer  is  simple  : the  result  of 
the  conflict  of  these  various  factors,  the  striking  of 
the  balance,  is  the  choice.  Some  desire  emerges 
from  the  confused  complex,  and  that  desire  is  the 
final  determination  of  the  will.  This  desire  may 
not  in  all  cases  be  the  strongest  in  itself,  — that  is, 
the  one  whose  satisfaction  will  allay  the  greatest 
“ uneasiness,”  for  the  others,  taken  together,  may 
outweigh  it ; it  may,  so  to  speak,  have  a plurality, 
but  not  a majority,  of  volitional  forces  on  its  side,  — 
and  in  this  case  a fusion  of  opposing  factors  may 
defeat  it.  But  in  any  event  the  result  will  be  the 
algebraic  sum  of  the  various  desires  and  impulses. 

It  is  not  at  all  necessary,  however,  that  the  net 
outcome  shall  make  itself  apparent  as  a mechanical 
equivalent  of  the  forces  at  work.  The  soul,  Leibniz 
says,  may  use  its  skill  in  the  formation  of  parties, 
so  as  to  make  this  or  that  side  the  victor.  How  is 
this  to  be  done,  and  still  disallow  the  possibility  of 
arbitrary  choice?  This  problem  is  solved  through 
action  becoming  deliberate.  Deliberate  action  is 
impossible  unless  the  soul  has  formed  the  habit  of 
looking  ahead  and  of  arranging  for  modes  of 


116 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


action  which  do  not  present  themselves  as  immediate 
necessities.  Only  in  this  way  can  one  look  at  the 
matter  impartially  and  coolly;  “at  the  moment  of 
combat  there  is  no  time  for  discussion.  Everything 
which  then  occurs  throws  its  full  force  on  the 
balance,  and  contributes  to  an  outcome  made  up  in 
the  same  way  as  in  mechanics.”  The  formation  of 
certain  habits  beforehand,  therefore,  is  the  secret 
of  translating  impulsive  action  into  the  deliberate 
sphere. 

Of  these  habits  the  simplest  consists  in  thinking 
only  occasionally  and  incidentally  of  certain  things. 
Imagination  is  the  mother  of  desire.  If  we  do  not 
allow  the  imagination  to  dwell  upon  certain  lines 
of  thought,  the  probability  of  such  thoughts  acquir- 
ing sufficient  force  to  become  motives  of  weight  is 
small.  A still  more  effective  method  of  regulating 
action  is  “to  accustom  ourselves  to  forming  a 
train  of  thoughts  of  which  reason,  and  not  chance 
(that  is,  association),  is  the  basis.  We  must  get 
out  of  the  tumult  of  present  impressions,  beyond 
our  immediate  surroundings,  and  ask:  Die  cur  hie ? 
respice  finem ! ” In  other  words,  we  must  cross- 
question our  impulses  and  desires,  we  must  ask 
whence  they  come,  that  we  may  see  how  valid  are 
the  credentials  which  they  offer.  We  must  ask 
whither  they  tend,  that  we  may  measure  them,  not 
by  their  immediate  interest,  but  by  their  relation 
to  an  end.  The  desires  are  not  to  be  taken  at  their 
face- value,  but  are  to  be  weighed  and  compared. 

Such  a process  will  evidently  result  in  arresting 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


117 


instantaneous  action.  There  will  be  a pause  be- 
tween the  presentation  of  the  desires  and  the  overt 
act.  During  this  pause  it  may  well  occur  that  the 
examination  to  which  the  desires  have  been  sub- 
ject has  awakened  contrary  desires.  The  thought 
of  the  ignoble  origin  of  a desire  or  of  its  repulsive, 
though  remote,  result  will  bring  into  action  desires 
of  an  opposed  kind.  Thus  the  soul  regulates  ac- 
tion, not  as  if,  however,  it  had  any  direct  influence 
over  desires,  but  by  its  ability  of  bringing  other 
desires  into  the  field.  The  will,  in  short,  is  not 
opposed  to  desire,  though  rational  desire  may  be 
opposed  to  sensuous  desire.  “By  various  artifices, 
then,”  Leibniz  concludes,  “we  become  masters  of 
ourselves,  and  can  make  ourselves  think  and  do 
that  which  we  ought  to  will,  and  which  reason  or- 
dains.” Such  is  the  summary  of  Leibniz’s  analysis 
of  the  elements  and  mechanism  of  volition.  There 
was  not  much  psychology  existing  at  the  time  which 
could  aid  him  in  such  an  acute  and  subtle  account ; 
only  in  Aristotle  could  he  have  found  much  help. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  has  been  so  generally  incor- 
porated into  current  psychology  that  we  may  seem 
to  have  wasted  space  in  repeating  truisms. 

Of  moral  action,  however,  we  have  as  yet  heard 
nothing.  We  have  an  account  of  a psychological 
mechanism  ; but  for  what  ethical  end  does  this  work, 
and  by  what  method?  This  cpiestion  may  best  be 
answered  by  turning  in  more  detail  to  the  question 
of  the  “ freedom  of  the  will.”  Freedom  in  the 
sense  of  arbitrary  choice  Leibniz  wholly  rejects,  as 


118 


leibmz\s  new  essays. 


we  have  seen.  It  is  inconsistent  with  at  least  two 
of  his  fundamental  principles ; those,  namely,  of 
sufficient  reason,  and  of  continuity.  “Everything 
that  occurs  must  have  a sufficient  reason  for  its 
occurrence.”  This  oft-repeated  dictum  of  Leibniz, 
the  logical  way  of  stating  the  complete  rationality 
of  experience,  would  be  shattered  into  fragments 
by  collision  with  groundless  choice.  It  conflicts 
equally  (indeed  for  the  same  reason)  with  the  prin- 
ciple of  continuity.  “The  present  is  pregnant 
with  the  future.”  “Nature  never  makes  leaps.” 
“An  absolute  equilibrium  is  a chimera.”  “The 
soul  is  never  wholly  at  rest.”  These  are  only  va- 
rious ways  of  saying  that  the  notion  of  arbitrary 
or  unmotivated  choice  rests  upon  the  assumption 
that  there  is  a complete  break  in  the  life  of  the 
soul,  so  that  it  is  possible  for  something  to  hap- 
pen which  bears  no  organic  relation  to  anything 
that  precedes.  The  notion  of  a state  of  the  soul 
without  motives,  followed  by  the  irruption  of  a 
certain  line  of  conduct,  the  notion  of  an  equilibrium 
broken  by  arbitrary  choice,  is  simply  the  counterpart 
of  the  idea  of  a vacuum.  All  that  makes  Leibniz 
reject  the  latter  conception  makes  it  impossible  for 
him  to  accept  the  former. 

This  should  not  be  interpreted  to  mean  that 
Leibniz  denied  the  “freedom  of  the  will.”  What 
he  denied  is  a notion  of  freedom  which  seemed  to 
him  at  once  uuverifiable,  useless,  and  irrational. 
There  is  a conception  of  freedom  which  Leibniz  not 
only  accepts,  but  insists  upon.  Such  a notion  of 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


119 


freedom  is  indeed  his  ethical  ideal.  Its  three  traits 
are  contingency,  spontaneity,  and  rationality  of 
action.  How  action  can  be  at  the  same  time 
contingent  and  determined  is  perhaps  difficult  to 
understand ; but  Leibniz  takes  the  position  that  it 
is.  His  first  step  is  to  distinguish  between  phys- 
ical, mathematical,  metaphysical,  and  moral  ne- 
cessity. There  are  truths  which  are  eternal,  truths 
which  are  absolutely  necessary,  because  their  op- 
posites involve  contradiction.  They  cannot  be 
violated  without  involving  us  in  absurdity.  There 
are  other  truths  which  are  “ positive,”  that  is,  or- 
dained for  good  reason.  These  truths  may  be 
a priori , or  rational,  and  not  merely  empirical ; for 
they  have  been  chosen  for  reasons  of  advantage. 
God  always  chooses  and  ordains  the  best  of  a 
number  of  possibilities  ; but  he  does  it,  not  because 
the  opposite  is  impossible,  but  because  it  is  inferior. 
Truths  whose  opposites  are  impossible  have  met- 
aphysical and  mathematical  necessity.  Positive 
truths  have  moral  necessity.  The  principle  of 
causation  must  be  true  ; the  three  interior  angles 
of  a triangle  must  be  equal  to  two  right  angles. 
But  that  God  shall  choose  the  better  of  two  courses 
is  a moral  necessity  only.  It  involves  no  absolute 
logical  contradiction  to  conceive  him  choosing  some 
other'  way.  Upon  moral  necessity  depends  the 
physical.  The  particular  laws  of  nature  are  ne- 
cessary, not  because  their  opposites  are  logically 
absurd,  but  because  these  laws  are  most  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  general  principles  of  good  and 


120 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


order,  in  agreement  with  which  God  chooses.  Phys- 
ical and  moral  action  is  therefore  in  all  cases 
contingent.  (Contingency  does  not  of  itself,  of 
course,  constitute  freedom,  but  conjoined  with  the 
characteristics  of  rationality  and  spontaneity,  does 
so.) 

Necessity,  in  short,  is  based  upon  the  principle 
of  logical  contradiction  ; contingency  upon  that  of 
sufficient  reason.  Since  our  actions  are  in  no  case 
necessitated  in  such  a way  that  their  opposite  is 
self-contradictory,  or,  put  positively,  since  our 
actions  are  always  determined  by  the  choice  of  that 
which  seems  best,  our  actions  are  contingent. 
Occasionally  Leibniz  puts  the  matter  in  a much 
simpler  way,  and  one  which  brings  out  the  essential 
element  more  clearly  than  the  foregoing  distinc- 
tion. Some  facts  are  determined  by  the  princi- 
ple of  physical  causation  ; others  by  that  of  final 
causation.  Some,  in  other  words,  are  necessary  as 
the  mechanical  outcome  of  their  antecedents  ; others 
are  necessary  as  involved  in  the  reaching  of  a given 
end.  It  is  simply  the  Aristotelian  distinction  be- 
tween efficient  and  teleological  causation.  Human 
action  is  determined,  since  it  always  has  a motive 
or  reason  ; it  is  contingent,  because  it  springs  from 
this  reason  and  not  from  its  temporal  antecedents. 
It  is,  in  short,  determined,  but  it  is  also  free. 

It  does  not  require  much  analysis,  however,  to 
see  that  this  distinction,  in  whatever  way  it  be  put, 
really  has  no  significance,  except  as  it  points  to  the 
other  marks  of  freedom,  — spontaneity  and  rational- 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


121 


ity.  As  we  shall  see,  Leibniz  makes  and  can  make 
no  absolute  distinction  between  truths  of  reason 
and  truths  of  fact.  The  contingent  and  the  neces- 
sary are  one  at  bottom.  To  us  with  our  limited 
intelligence  it  does  indeed  often  appear  as  if  no 
contradiction  were  involved  in  the  former,  — as  if, 
for  example,  a man  could  turn  either  to  right  or  left 
without  there  being  any  logical  contradiction  in 
either  case  ; but  this  is  because  of  our  defective 
insight.  An  intelligence  cognizant  of  the  whole 
matter  could  see  that  one  action  would  contradict 
some  truth  involved  in  the  constitution  of  the  uni- 
verse. The  source  of  the  contingent  and  changing 
is  in  the  necessary  and  eternal.  Thus  it  is  that 
although  Leibniz  at  one  time  says  that  “neither 
one's  self  nor  any  other  spirit  more  enlightened 
could  demonstrate  that  the  opposite  of  a given  ac- 
tion (like  going  out  in  preference  to  staying  in) 
involves  contradiction,”  at  another  time  he  says 
that  “ a perfect  knowledge  of  all  the  circumstances, 
internal  and  external,  would  enable  any  one  to 
foresee”  the  decision  in  a given  case.  If  that  be 
so,  anj'  other  action  must  be  impossible  ; that  is, 
according  to  Leibniz’s  invariable  logic,  imply 
contradiction. 

We  get  the  same  result  if  we  consider  the  rela- 
tion of  final  and  efficient  causes.  It  is  only  when 
speaking  in  a very  general  way  that  Leibniz  opposes 
action  as  determined  by  precedent  activities  to  that 
directed  towards  the  attainment  of  an  end.  He 
does  not  really  mean  that  some  action  is  physical, 


122 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


while  other  is  teleological.  He  cannot  suppose  that 
some  action  has  an  antecedent  cause,  while  other 
has  a purpose.  The  very  essence  of  his  thought  is 
that  action  is  both  mechanical  and  teleological ; that 
all  action  follows  in  a law  of  order  from  precedent 
action,  and  that  all  fulfils  a certain  spiritual  function. 
The  distinction  is  not,  with  Leibniz,  one  between  two 
kinds  of  action,  but  between  two  ways  of  looking 
at  every  action.  The  desire  to  go  rather  than  to 
stay,  has  its  efficient  cause ; the  movements  by 
which  the  desire  is  executed,  have  their  final  cause. 
The  truth  of  the  matter  seems  to  be  that  Leibniz  in 
his  desire  to  guard  against  being  thought  a fatalist, 
oi’  one  denying  all  freedom,  uses  terms  which  are 
compatible  only  with  a freedom  of  indifference.  So 
in  his  statement  that  man’s  action  is  free  because 
“ contingent,”  he  seems  actuated  rather  by  a wish  to 
avoid  the  hateful  term  “necessity”  than  by  consider- 
ations strictly  in  harmony  with  his  own  principles. 

Had  lie  confined  his  use  of  the  term  “ contingent,” 
however,  simply  to  re-stating  the  fact  that  human 
action  is  spontaneous,  no  such  apparent  contradic- 
tion would  have  presented  itself.  Human  actions 
may  be  called  contingent,  as  physical  actions  are 
not,  because  the  latter  always  seem  to  be  exter- 
nally determined,  while  the  .former  are  internally 
directed.  Motions  act  from  without ; motives  from 
within.  The  cause  of  the  falling  of  a -stone  lies  out- 
side it ; the  source  of  a desire  which  moves  to  action 
is  from  the  mind  itself.  A\Te  are  thus  introduced  to 
contingency  as  a synonym  of  “ spontaneity.” 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


123 


Kuno  Fischer  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that 
Spinoza  and  Leibniz  both  use  the  same  sort  of  il- 
lustration to  show  the  non- arbitrary  character  of 
human  action,  but  the  same  illustration  with  a dif- 
ference ; and  in  the  difference  he  finds  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  two  philosophies.  Spinoza 
'/says  that  a stone  falling  to  the  ground,  if  endowed 
with  consciousness,  might  imagine  itself  following 
its  own  will  in  falling.  Leibniz  says  that  a mag- 
netic needle  similarly  endowed  might  imagine  that 
it  turned  towards  the  north  simply  because  it  wished. 
Both  examples  are  used  to  illustrate  the  folly  of 
relying  upon  the  immediate  “testimony”  of  con- 
sciousness. But  the  example  of  Spinoza  is  that  of 
an  object,  all  whose  movements  are  absolutely  ne- 
cessitated from  without ; the  example  of  Leibniz  is 
that  of  an  object  whose  activity,  though  following 
law,  and  not  caprice,  is  apparently  initiated  from 
within.  Of  course  in  reality  the  movements  of  the 
magnetic  needle  are  just  as  much  externally  con- 
ditioned as  those  of  the  stone  ; but  the  appearance 
of  self-action  in  the  latter  case  may  serve  at  least 
to  exemplify  what  is  meant  by  spontaneity  as  attri- 
buted to  human  action. 

It  must  be  noticed  at  the  outset  that  spontaneity 
belongs  to  every  simple  substance.  We  have  only 
to  recall  the  doctrine  of  monads.  These  suffer  noth- 
ing from  without,  all  their  activity  is  the  expression, 
is  the  unfolding,  of  their  own  law.  “By  nature,” 
Leibniz  says,  “ every  simple  substance  has  percep- 
tions, and  its  individuality  consists  in  the  permanent 


124 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


law  which  forms  the  succession  of  its  perceptions, 
that  are  born  naturally  one  of  another.  Hence 
it  is  not  necessary  for  it  to  receive  any  physical 
influence  from  without ; and  therefore  the  soul  has 
in  itself  a perfect  spontaneity  in  such  a way  that 
its  actious  depend  only  upon  God  and  itself.”  Or 
if  we  put  the  matter  in  its  connection  with  his 
psychology  rather  than  with  his  metaphysics,  it  is 
true  that  our  actions  are  determined  by  our  mo- 
tives ; but  motives  are  not  forces  without  the  soul, 
they  are  forces  of  the  soul.  In  acting  according 
to  motives  the  soul  is  simply  acting  according  to 
its  own  laws.  A desire  is  not  an  impulsion  from 
an  external  cause  ; it  is  the  expression  of  an  in- 
ward tendency.  To  say  that  the  soul  acts  from 
the  strongest  desire  is  simply  to  say,  from  this 
standpoint,  that  it  manifests  the  most  real  part 
of  itself,  not  that  it  obeys  a foreign  force.  Im- 
pulses, desires,  motives,  are  all  psychical ; they 
admit  of  no  description  or  explanation  except  in 
their  relation  to  the  soul  itself.  Thus  when  Leibniz 
compares,  as  he  often  does,  motives  to  weights  act- 
ing upon  a balance,  we  are  to  remember  that  the 
balance  is  not  to  be  conceived  as  the  soul,  and 
the  weights  as  energies  outside  it,  but  that  this  is 
only  a way  of  picturing  what  is  going  on  within 
the  soul  itself.  The  soul  may  be  a mechanism,  but 
it  is  a self-directing  and  self-executing  mechan- 
ism. To  say  that  human  action  is  free  because 
it  is  spontaneous,  is  to  say  that  it  follows  an 
immanent  principle,  that  it  is  independent  of 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


125 


foreign  influences,  — in  a word,  that  it  is  self- 
determined. 

But  here  again  it  seems  as  if  Leibniz  had  stated 
a principle  altogether  too  wide  to  throw  any  light 
upon  the  nature  of  moral  freedom.  Spontaneity  is 
•no  more  an  attribute  of  human  activity  than  it  is 
of  all  real  activity.  Every  monad,  even  the  uncon- 
scious, as  truly  follows  its  own  law  without  inter- 
ference from  without  as  does  man  himself.  If  the 
spontaneity  of  action  constitutes  its  morality,  we 
are  not  in  a condition  to  ascribe  morality  to  man  any 
more  than  to  any  real  thing.  We  are  thus  thrown 
back  again  upon  the  conception  of  rationality  as  the 
final  and  decisive  trait  of  freedom  and  of  ethical  con- 
duct. Just  as  “contingency”  gets  a moral  import 
only  in  connection  with  conscious  ends  of  action,  so 
“spontaneity”  comes  within  the  moral  realm  only 
when  conjoined  to  reason. 

Why  is  there  this  close  connection  between  reason 
and  freedom?  The  reader  has  only  to  recall  what 
was  said  of  Leibniz’s  theory  of  causality  to  get  a 
glimpse  into  their  unity.  Causality  is  not  a matter 
of  physical  influence,  but  of  affording  the  reason  in 
virtue  of  which  some  fact  is  what  it  is.  This  ap- 
plies of  course  to  the  relation  of  the  soul  and  the 
body.  “ So  far  as  the  soul  is  perfect  and  has  dis- 
tinct ideas,  God  has  accommodated  the  body  to  it ; 
so  far  as  the  soul  is  imperfect  and  its  ideas  are  con- 
fused, God  has  accommodated  the  soul  to  the  body. 
In  the  former  case  the  body  always  responds  to  the 
demands  of  the  soul ; in  the  latter  the  soul  is  moved 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


1 26 

by  the  passions  which  are  born  of  the  sensuous 
ideas.  Each  is  thought  to  act  upon  the  other  in  the 
measure  of  its  perfection  [that  is,  degree  of  activ- 
ity], since  God  has  adjusted  one  thing  to  another 
according  to  its  perfection  or  imperfection.  Activ- 
ity and  passivity  are  always  reciprocal  in  created 
things,  because  a portion  of  the  reasons  which  serve 
to  explain  what  goes  on'  is  in  one  substance,  and 
another  portion  in  the  other.  This  is  what  makes 
us  call  one  active,  the  other  passive.” 

If  we  translate  these  ideas  out  of  their  somewhat 
scholastic  phraseology,  the  meaning  is  that  the  self- 
activity of  any  substance  is  accurately  measured  by 
the  extent  to  which  it  contains  the  reasons  for  its 
own  actions  ; and  conversely,  that  it  is  dependent 
or  enslaved  just  so  far  as  it  has  its  reasons  beyond 
itself.  Sensations',  sensuous  impulses,  represent, 
as  we  have  seen  before,  the  universe  only  in  a con- 
fused and  inarticulate  way.  They  are  knowledge 
which  cannot  give  an  account  of  itself.  They  rep- 
resent, in  short,  that  side  of  mind  which  may  be 
regarded  as  affected,  or  the  limitation  of  mind,  — - 
its  want  of  activity.  So  far  as  the  mind  acts  from 
these  sensations  and  the  feelings  which  accompany 
them,  it  is  ideally  determined  from  without ; it  is  a 
captive  to  its  own  states  ; it  is  in  a condition  of  pas- 
sivity. In  all  action,  therefore,  which  occurs  from 
a sensuous  basis,  the  soul  is  rightly  regarded  as 
unfree. 

On  the  other  hand,  just  in  the  degree  in  which 
distinctness  is  introduced  into  the  sensations,  so 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


127 


that  they  are  not  simply  experienced  as  they  come, 
but  are  related  to  one  another  so  that  their  reason 
for  existence,  their  spiritual  meaning,  is  ascertained, 
just  in  that  degree  is  the  soul  master  of  itself.  In 
Leibniz’s  own  words:  “Distinct  knowledge  or  in- 
telligence has  its  place  in  the  true  use  of  reason, 
while  the  senses  furnish  confused  ideas.  Hence  we 
can  say  that  we  are  free  from  slavery  just  in  the 
degree  that  we  act  with  distinct  knowledge,  but  are 
subject  to  our  passions  in  just  the  degree  that  our 
ideas  are  confused  ; ” that  is,  not  really  representa- 
tive of  things  as  they  are.  “ Intelligence  is  the 
soul  of  liberty.” 

This  psychological  explanation  rests,  of  course, 
upon  the  foundation  principle  of  the  Leibnizian 
philosophy.  Spirit  is  the  sole  reality,  and  spirit 
is  activity.  But  there  are  various  degrees  of  ac- 
tivity, and  each  grade  lower  than  the  purus  actus 
may  be  rightfully  regarded  as  in  so  far  passive. 
This  relative  passivity  or  unreality  constitutes  the 
material  and  hence  the  sensuous  world.  One  who 
has  not  insight  into  truth,  lives  and  acts  in  this 
world  of  comparative  unreality  ; he  is  in  bondage 
to  it.  From  this  condition  of  slavery  only  reason, 
the  understanding  of  things  as  they  are,  can  lift 
one.  The  rational  man  is  free  because  he  acts,  in 
the  noble  words  of  Spinoza,  sub  specie  ceternitatis. 
He  acts  in  view  of  the  eternal  truth  of  things,  — as 
God  himself  -would  act. 

God  alone,  it  further  follows,  is  wholly  free.  In 
him  alone  are  understanding  and  will  wholly  one. 


128 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


In  him  the  true  and  the  good  are  one ; while  every 
created  intelligence  is  subject  in  some  degree  to 
sensuous  affection,  to  passion.  “ In  us,  besides 
the  judgment  of  the  understanding,  there  is  always 
mixed  some  unreal  idea  of  the  sensation  which 
gives  birth  to  passions  and  impulses,  and  these  trav- 
erse the  judgment  of  the  practical  understanding.” 
Freedom,  in  fine,  is  not  a ready  made  garment  with 
which  all  men  are  clothed  to  do  with  as  they  will. 
It  is  the  ethical  ideal ; it  is  something  to  be  attained  ; 
it  is  action  in  conformity  with  reason,  or  .insight 
into  the  spiritual  nature  of  reality  and  into  its  laws  ; 
it  is  not  the  starting-point,  it  is  the  goal.  Only 
with  a great  price  do  men  purchase  such  freedom. 
It  will  be  noticed  at  once  that  Leibniz  comes  very 
close  to  Plato  in  his  fundamental  ethical  ideas.  The 
unity  of  virtue  and  reason,  of  virtue  and  freedom,  — 
these  are  thoroughly  Platonic  conceptions.  To  both 
Plato  and  Leibniz  reason  is  the  ethical  ideal  because 
it  is  the  expression  of,  nay,  rather,  is  the  reality  of 
the  universe ; while  all  else  is,  as  Leibniz  says, 
imperfect  or  unreal,  since  it  is  not  an  activity,  or, 
as  Plato  says,  a mixture  of  Being  and  Non-Being. 
Again,  to  both  man  bears  a similar  relation  to  this 
spiritual  reality.  In  Plato’s  words,  he  participates 
in  the  Ideas  ; in  those  of  Leibniz  he  reflects,  as  a 
mirror,  the  universe.  To  both,  in  a word,  the 
reality,  the  true-self  of  the  individual,  is  the  spiritual 
universe  of  which  it  is  an  organic  member.  To 
both,  therefore,  man  obtains  freedom  or  self-reali- 
zation only  as  he  realizes  his  larger  and  more  com- 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


129. 


prehensive  identity  with  the  Keason  of  the  universe. 
With  both,  knowledge  is  the  good,  ignorance  is  the 
evil.  No  man  is  voluntarily  bad,  but  only  through 
lack  of  knowledge  of  the  true  Good.  Leibniz, 
however,  with  a more  developed  psychology,  supple- 
ments Plato  in  the  point  where  the  latter  had  the 
most  difficulty,  — the  possibility  of  the  feelings  or 
of  a love  of  pleasure  overcoming  knowledge  of  the 
good.  This  possibility  Plato  was  compelled  to 
deny,  while  Leibniz,  by  his  subtle  identifying  of  the 
passions  with  lack  of  knowledge,  or  with  confused 
knowledge,  can  admit  it.  “It  is  an  imperfection 
of  our  freedom,”  says  Leibniz,  “which  causes  us 
to  choose  evil  rather  than  good,  — a greater  evil 
rather  than  the  less,  the  less  good  rather  than  the 
greater.  This  comes  from  the  appearances  of  good 
and  evil  which  deceive  us  ; but  God,  who  is  perfect 
knowledge,  is  always  led  to  the  true  and  to  the  best 
good,  that  is,  to  the  true  and  absolute  good.” 

It  only  remains  briefly  to  apply  these  conceptions 
to  some  specific  questions  of  moral  actions.  Locke 
asks  whether  there  are  practical  innate  ideas,  and 
denies  them,  as  he  denies  theoretical.  Leibniz,  m 
replying,  recognizes  two  kinds  of  “ innate  ” prac- 
tical principles,  one  of  which  is  to  be  referred,  to 
the  class  of  instincts,  the  other  to  that  of  maxims. 
Primarily,  and  probably  wholly  in  almost  all  men,, 
moral  truths  take  the  rank  of  instincts  alone. , All 
men  aim  at  the  Good;  it  is  impossible  to  think  pi 
man  wilfully  seeking  his  own  evil,  The  me,tho}Js, 
the  means  of  reaching  this  Good,  are  implanted, in 
9 


130 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


men  as  instincts.  These  instincts,  when  brought  to 
the  light  of  reason  and  examined,  become  maxims 
of  action  ; they  lose  their  particular  and  impulsive 
character,  and  become  universal  and  deliberate  prin- 
ciples. Thus  Leibniz  is  enabled  to  answer  the  va- 
rious objections  which  are  always  brought  against 
any  “ intuitive  ” theory  of  moral  actions,  — the  va- 
riability of  men’s  moral  beliefs  and  conduct  in  dif- 
ferent countries  and  at  different  times.  Common 
instincts,  but  at  first  instincts  only,  are  present  in 
all  men  whenever  and  wherever  they  live.  These 
instincts  may  readily  be  “resisted  by  men’s  pas- 
sions, obscured  by  prejudice,  and  changed  by  cus- 
tom.” The  moral  instincts  are  always  the  basis  of 
moral  action,  but  “custom,  tradition,  education” 
become  mixed  with  them.  Even  when  so  con- 
founded, however,  the  instinct  will  generally  pre- 
vail, and  custom  is,  upon  the  whole,  on  the  side  of 
right  rather  than  wrong,  so  that  Leibniz  thinks 
there  is  a sense  in  which  all  men  have  one  common 
morality. 

But  these  moral  instincts,  even  when  pure,  are 
not  ethical  science.  This  is  innate,  Leibniz  says,j 
only  in  the  sense  in  which  arithmetic  is  innate,  — 
it  depends  upon  demonstrations  which  reason  fur- 
nishes. Leibniz  does  not,  then,  oppose  intuitive  and 
demonstrative,  as  sometimes  happens.  Morality  is 
practically  intuitive  in  the  sense  that  all  men  tend  to 
aim  at  the  Good,  and  have  an  instinctive  feeling  of 
what  makes  towards  the  Good.  It  is  theoretically 
demonstrative,  since  it  does  not  become  a science 


THE  IMPULSES  AND  THE  WILL. 


131 


until  Reason  has  an  insight  into  the  nature  of  the 
Good,  and  ascertains  the  fixed  laws  which  are  tribu- 
tary to  it.  Moral  principles  are  not  intuitive  in 
the  sense  that  they  are  immediately  discovered  as 
separate  principles  by  some  one  power  of  the  soul 
called  “ conscience.”  Moral  laws  are  intuitive,  he 
says,  “ as  the  consequences  of  our  own  develop- 
ment and  our  true  well-being.”  Here  we  may  well 
leave  the  matter.  What  is  to  be  said  in  detail  of 
Leibniz’s  ethics  will  find  its  congenial  home  in  what 
we  have  to  say  of  his  theology. 


132 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT. 

LOCKE’S  account  of  innate  ideas  and  of  sensa- 
tion is  only  preparatory  to  a discussion  of  the 
ideas  got  by  sensation.  11  is  explanation  of  the 
mode  of  knowledge  leads  lip  to  an  explanation  of 
the  things  known.  He  remains  true  to  his  funda- 
mental idea  that  before  wre  come  to  conclusions 
about  any  matters  we  must  “ examine  our  own  abil- 
ity.” He  deals  first  with  ideas  got  by  the  senses, 
whether  by  some  one  or  by  their  conjoint  action. 
Of  these  the  ideas  of  solidity,  of  extension,  and  of 
duration  are  of  most  concern  to  us.  They  form  as 
near  an  approach  to  a general  philosophy  of  nature 
as  may  be  found  anywhere  in  Locke.  They  are,  too, 
the  germ  from  which  grew  the  ideas  of  matter,  of 
space,  and  of  time,  which,  however  more  compre- 
hensive in  scope  and  more  amply  worked  out  in 
detail,  characterize  succeeding  British  thought,  and 
which  are  reproduced  to-day  by  Mr.  Spencer. 

“ The  idea  of  solidity  we  receive  by  our  touch.” 
“ The  ideas  we  get  by  more  than  one  sense  are  of 
space  or  extension,  figure,  rest,  and  motion.”  These 
sentences  contain  the  brief  statement  of  the  chief 
contention  of  the  sensational  school.  Locke  cer- 
tainly was  not  conscious  when  he  wrote  them 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  133 

that  they  were  the  expression  of  ideas  which  should 
resolve  the  world  of  matter  and  of  space  into  a dis- 
solving series  of  accidentally  associated  sensations  ; 
but  such  was  none  the  less  the  case.  When  he 
writes,  “ If  any  one  asks  me  what  solidity  is,  I send 
him  to  his  senses  to  inform  him,”  he  is  preparing 
the  way  for  Berkeley,  and  for  a denial  of  all  reality 
beyond  the  feelings  of  the  individual  mind.  When 
he  says  that  “ we  get  the  idea  of  space  both  by  sight 
and  touch,”  this  statement,  although  appearing  tru- 
istic, is  none  the  less  the  source  of  the  contention 
of  Hume  that  even  geometry  contains  no  necessary 
or  universal  elements,  but  is  an  account  of  sen- 
sible appearances,  relative,  as  are  all  matters  of 
sensation. 

Locke’s  ideas  may  be  synopsized  as  follows  : It 
is  a sufficient  account  of  solidity  to  say  that  it  is  got 
by  touch  and  that  it  arises  from  the  resistance  found 
in  bodies  to  the  entrance  of  any  other  body.  “ It 
is  that  which  hinders  the  approach  of  two  bodies 
when  they  are  moved  towards  one  another.”  If  not 
identical  with  matter,  it  is  at  all  events  its  most  es- 
sential property.  “ This  of  all  others  seems  the 
idea  most  intimately  connected  with  and  essential  to 
bod}7,  so  as  nowhere  else  to  be  found  or  imagined, 
but  only  in  matter.”  It  is,  moreover,  the  source  of 
the  other  properties  of  matter.  “ Upon  the  solidity 
of  bodies  depend  their  mutual  impulse,  resistance, 
and  protrusion.”  Solidity,  again,  “ is  so  inseparable 
an  idea  from  body  that  upon  that  depends  its  filling 
of  space,  its  contact,  impulse,  and  communication 


134 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


of  motion  upon  impulse.”  It  is  to  be  distinguished, 
therefore,  from  hardness,  for  hardness  is  relative 
and  derived,  various  bodies  having  various  degrees 
of  it ; while  solidity  consists  in  utter  exclusion  of 
other  bodies  from  the  space  possessed  by  any  one, 
so  that  the  hardest  body  has  no  more  solidity  than 
the  softest. 

The  close  connection  between  solidity  and  matter 
makes  it  not  only  possible,  but  necessary,  to  distin- 
guish between  matter  and  extension  as  against  the 
Cartesians,  who  had  identified  them.  In  particular 
Locke  notes  three  differences  between  these  notions. 
Extension  includes  neither  solidity  nor  resistance  ; 
its  parts  are  inseparable  from  one  another  both  really 
and  mentally,  and  are  immovable  ; while  matter  has 
solidity,  its  parts  are  mutually  separable,  and  may 
be  moved  in  space.  From  this  distinction  between 
space  and  matter  it  follows,  according  to  Locke, 
that  there  is  such  a thing  as  a vacuum,  or  that 
space  is  not  necessarily  a plenum  of  matter.  Mat- 
ter is  that  which  fills  space  ; but  it  is  entirely  indif- 
ferent to  space  whether  or  not  it  is  filled.  Space  is 
occupied  by  matter,  but  there  is  no  essential  rela- 
tion between  them.  Solidity  is  the  essence  of  mat- 
ter ; emptiness  is  the  characteristic  of  space.  “ The 
idea  of  space  is  as  distinct  from  that  of  solidity  as 
it  is  from  that  of  scarlet  color.  It  is  true,  solidity 
cannot  exist  without  extension,  neither  can  scarlet 
color  exist  without  extension ; but  this  hinders  not 
that  they  are  distinct  ideas.” 

Thus  there  is  fixed  for  us  the  idea  of  space  as 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  135 


well  as  of  matter.  It  is  a distinct  idea ; that  is, 
absolute  or  independent  in  itself,  having  no  intrinsic 
connection  with  phenomena  in  space.  Yet  it  is  got 
through  the  senses.  How  that  can  be  a matter  of 
sensation  which  is  not  only  not  material,  but  has 
no  connection  in  itself  with  matter,  Locke  does 
not  explain.  He  thinks  it  sufficient  to  say  that  we 
see  distance  between  bodies  of  different  color  just 
as  plainly  as  we  see  the  colors.  Space  is,  therefore, 
a purely  immediate  idea,  containing  no  more  organic 
relation  to  intelligence  than  It  has  to  objects.  We  get 
the  notion  of  time  as  we  do  that  of  space,  excepting 
that  it  is  the  observation  of  internal  states  and  not 
of  external  objects  which  furnishes  the  material  of 
the  idea.  Time  has  two  elements,  — succession  and 
duration.  “ Observing  what  passes  in  the  mind, 
how  of  our  ideas  there  in  train  some  constantly 
vanish,  and  others  begin  to  appear,  we  come  by  the 
idea  of  succession,  and  by  observing  a distance  in 
the  parts  of  this  succession  we  get  the  idea  of 
duration.”  Whether,  however,  time  is  something 
essentially  empty,  having  no  relation  to  the  events 
which  fill  it,  as  space  is  essentially  empty,  without 
necessary  connection  with  the  objects  which  fill  it, 
is  a question  Locke  does  not  consider.  In  fact,  the 
gist  of  his  ideas  upon  this  point  is  as  follows  : there 
is  actually  an  objective  space  or  pure  emptiness ; 
employing  our  senses,  we  get  the  idea  of  this  space. 
There  is  actually  an  objective  time  ; employing  re- 
flection, we  perceive  it.  There  is  not  the  slightest 
attempt  to  form  a philosophy  of  them,  or  to  show 


136 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


their  function  in  the  construction  of  an  intelligible 
world,  except  in  the  one  point  of  the  absolute  inde- 
pendence of  matter  and  space. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  Leibniz  criticises  the  minor 
points  of  Locke  in  such  a way  as  to  throw  much 
light  upon  them,  or  that  he  very  fully  expresses  his 
own  ideas  about  them.  He  contents  himself  with 
declaring  that  while  the  senses  may  give  instances 
of  space,  time,  and  matter,  and  may  suggest  to  intel- 
ligence the  stimuli  upon  which  intelligence  realizes 
these  notions  from  itself,  they  cannot  be  the  source 
of  these  notions  themselves  ; finding  the  evidence  of 
this  in  the  sciences  of  geometry,  arithmetic,  and  pure 
physics.  For  these  sciences  deal  with  the  notions 
of  space,  time,  and  matter,  giving  necessary  and 
demonstrative  ideas  concerning  them,  which  the 
senses  can  never  legitimate,  lie  further  denies  the 
supposed  absoluteness  or  independence  of  space, 
matter,  and  motion.  Admitting,  indeed,  the  distinc- 
tion between  extension  and  matter,  he  denies  that 
this  distinction  suffices  to  prove  the  existence,  or 
even  the  possibility,  of  a vacuum,  and  ends  with  a 
general  reference  to  his  doctrine  of  pre-established 
harmony,  as  serving  to  explain  these  matters  more 
fully  and  more  accurately. 

Leibniz  has,  however,  a complete  philosophy  of 
nature.  In  his  other  writing,  he  explains  the  ideas 
of  matter  and  force  in  their  dependence  upon  his 
metapliysic,  or  doctrine  of  spiritual  entelecliies.  The 
task  does  not  at  first  sight  appear  an  easy  one. 
The  reality,  according  to  Leibniz,  is  purely  spiritual, 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  137 


does  not  exist  in  space  nor  time,  and  is  a principle 
of  activity  following  its  own  law, — that  of  reflect- 
ing the  universe  of  spiritual  relations.  How  from 
this  world  of  ideal,  unextendecl,  and  non-temporal 
dynamic  realities  we  are  to  pass  over  to  a material 
world  of  extension,  with  its  static  existence  in 
space,  and  transitory  passage  in  time,  is  a question 
challenging  the  whole  Leibnizian  system.  It  is  a 
question,  however,  for  which  Leibniz  himself  has 
provided  an  answer.  We  may  not  regard  it  as 
adequate ; we  may  think  that  he  has  not  truly 
derived  the  material  world  from  his  spiritual  prin- 
ciples : but  at  all  events  he  asked  himself  the 

question,  and  gave  an  answer.-  We  shall  investi- 
gate this  answer  by  arranging  what  Leibniz  has  said 
under  the  heads  of  : matter  as  a metaphysical  prin- 
ciple ; matter  as  a physical  phenomenon  ; and  the 
relation  of  phenomena  to  absolute  reality,  or  of 
the  physical  to  the  metaphysical.  In  connection 
with  the  second  head,  particularly,  we  shall  find  it 
necessary  - to  discuss  what  Leibniz  has  said  about 
space,  time,  and  motion. 

Wolff,  who  put  the  ideas  of  Leibniz  into  systematic 
shape,  did  it  at  the  expense  of  almost  all  their 
significance.  ' He  took  away  the  air  of  paradox,  of 
remoteness,  that  characterized  Leibniz’s  thought, 
and  gave  it  a popular  form.  But  its  depth  and  sug- 
gestiveness vanished  in  the  process.  Unfortunately, 
Wolff’s  presentations  of  the  philosophy  of  Leibniz 
have  been  followed  by  others,  to  whom  it  seemed 
a dull  task  to  follow  out  the  intricacies  of  a thought 


138 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


nowhere  systematically  expressed.  This  has  been 
especially  the  case  as  concerns  the  Leibnizian 
doctrine  of  matter.  A superficial  interpretation  of 
certain  passages  in  Leibniz  has  led  to  an  almost 
universal  misunderstanding  about  it.  Leibniz  fre- 
quently says  that  since  matter  is  composite  or 
complex,  it  follows  that  there  must  be  something 
simple  as  its  basis,  and  this  simple  something  is 
the  monad.  The  misinterpretation  just  spoken  of 
consists  in  supposing  that  Leibniz  meant  that  mat- 
ter as  composite  is  made  up  of  monads  as  simple  ; 
that  the  monad  and  matter  are  facts  of  the  same 
order,  the  latter  being  only  an  aggregate,  or  con- 
tinued collection  of  the  former.  It  interpreted  the 
conception  of  Leibniz  in  strict  analogy  with  the 
atomic  theory  of  Lucretius,  excepting  that  it  granted 
that  the  former  taught  that  the  ultimate  atom,  the 
component  of  all  complex  forms  of  matter,  has 
position  only,  not  extension,  its  essence  consisting 
in  its  exercise  of  force,  not  in  its  mere  space  oc- 
cupancy. The  monad  was  thus  considered  to  be  in 
space,  or  at  least  conditioned  by  space  relations, 
as  is  a mathematical  point,  although  not  itself 
spatial  in  the  sense  of  being  extended.  Monad  and 
matter  were  thus  represented  as  facts  of  the  same 
kind  or  genus,  having  their  difference  only  in  their 
relative  isolation  or  aggregation. 

But  Leibniz  repudiated  this  idea,  and  that  not 
only  by  the  spirit  of  his  teaching,  but  in  express 
words.  Monads  “ are  not  ingredients  or  constit- 
uents of  matter,”  he  says,  “ but  only  conditions  of  it.” 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  139 

“Monads  can  no  more  be  said  to  be  parts  of  bodies, 
or  to  come  in  contact  with  them,  or  to  compose 
them,  than  can  souls  or  mathematical  points.” 
“Monads  per  se  have  no  situation  relative  to  one 
another.”  An  increase  in  the  number  of  created 
monads,  he  says  again,  if  such  a thing  could  be 
supposed,  would  no  more  increase  the  amount  of 
matter  in  existence,  than  mathematical  points  added 
to  a line  would  increase  its  length.  And  again : 
“There  is  no  nearness  or  remoteness  among  mo- 
nads ; to  say  that  the}7  are  gathered  in  a point  or 
are  scattered  in  space,  is  to  employ  mental  fictions, 
in  trying  to  imagine  what  can  only  be  thought.”  The 
italicized  words  give  the  clew  to  the  whole  dis- 
cussion. To  make  monads  of  the  same  order  as 
corporeal  phenomena,  is  to  make  them  sensible,  or 
capable  of  being  imaged,  or  conditioned  by  space 
and  time,  — three  phrases  which  are  strictly  cor- 
relative. But  the  monads  can  only  be  thought,  — 
that  is,  their  qualities  are  ideal,  not  sensible  ; they 
can  be  realized  only  by  reason,  not  projected  in 
forms  having  spatial  outline  and  temporal  hab- 
itation, that  is,  in  images.  Monads  and  material 
things,  in  other  words,  are  facts  of  two  distinct 
orders  ; they  are  related  as  the  rational  or  spiritual 
and  the  physical  or  sensible.  Matter  is  no  more 
composed  of  monads  than  it  is  of  thoughts  or  of 
logical  principles.  As  Leibniz  says  over  and  over 
again  : Matter,  space,  time,  motion  are  only  phe- 
nomena, although  phenomena  bene  f 'undata,  — phe- 
nomena, that  is,  having  their  rational  basis  and 


140 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


condition.  The  monads,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
not  appearances,  they  are  realities. 

H aving  freed  our  minds  from  the  supposition 
that  it  is  in  any  way  possible  to  form  an  image  or 
picture  of  the  monad ; having  realized  that  it  is 
wholly  false  to  suppose  that  monads  occupy  posi- 
tion in  space,  and  then  by  their  continuity  fill  it, 
and  make  extended  matter,  — we  must  attempt  to 
frame  a correct  theory  of  the  nature  of  matter  and 
its  relation  to  the  monad.  We  shall  do  this  only 
as  we  realize  that  “matter,”  so  far  as  it  has  any 
reality,  or  so  far  as  it  has  any  real  fundamentum , 
must  be  something  ideal,  or,  in  Leibniz’s  language, 
“metaphysical.”  As  he  says  over  and  over  again, 
the  only  realities  are  the  substances  or  spiritual 
units  of  activity,  to  which  the  name  “monad”  is 
given.  In  the  inquiry,  then,  after  such  reality  as 
matter  may  have,  we  must  betake  ourselves  to  this 
unit  of  living  energy. 

Although  every  monad  is  active,  it  is  not  entirely 
active.  There  is,  as  we  have  already  seen,  an 
infinite  scale  of  substances  ; and  since  substance  is 
equivalent  to  activity,  this  is  saying  that  there  is 
an  infinite  scale  of  activities.  God  alone  is  purus 
actus , absolute  energy,  untouched  by  passivity  or 
receptivity.  Every  other  being  has  the  element  of 
incompleteness,  of  inadequacy ; it  does  not  com- 
pletely represent  the  universe.  In  this  passivity 
consists  its  finitude,  so  that  Leibniz  says  that  not 
even  God  himself  could  deprive  monads  of  it,  for 
this  would  be  to  make  them  equal  to  himself.  In 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  141 


this  passivity,  incompleteness,  or  finitude,  consists 
what  we  call  matter.  Leibniz  says  that  he  can  un- 
derstand what  Plato  meant  when  he  called  matter 
something  essentially  imperfect  and  transitory.  Ev- 
ery finite  monad  is  a union  of  two  principles, — 
those  of  activity  and  of  passivity.  “I  do  not  ad- 
mit,” says  Leibniz,  “that  there  are  souls  existing 
simply  by  themselves,  or  that  there  are  created 
spirits  detached  from  all  body.  God  alone  is 
above  all  matter,  since  he  is  its  author ; creatures 
freed  from  matter  would  be  at  the  same  time  de- 
tached from  the  universal  connection  of  things,  and, 
as  it  were,  deserters  from  the  general  order.”  And 
again,  “ Beings  have  a nature  which  is  both  active 
and  passive;  that  is , material  and  immaterial.” 
And  again,  he  says  that  every  created  monad  re- 
quires both  an  entelechy,  or  principle  of  activity, 
and  matter.  “ Matter  is  essential  to  any  entelechy, 
and  can  never  be  separated  from  it,  since  matter 
completes  it.”  In  short,  the  term  “monad”  is  equiva- 
lent to  the  term  “entelechy”  only  when  applied  to 
God.  In  every  other  monad,  the  entelechy,  or  en- 
ergy, is  but  one  factor.  “ Matter,  or  primitive  pas- 
sive power,  completes  the  entelechy,  or  primitive 
active  power,  so  that  it  becomes  a perfect  substance, 
or  monad.”  On  the  other  hand,  of  course,  matter, 
as  the  passive  principle,  is  a mere  potentiality  or 
abstraction,  considered  in  itself.  It  is  real  only 
in  its  union  with  the  active  principle.  Matter,  he 
says,  “ cannot  exist  without  immaterial  substances.” 
“ To  every  particular  portion  of  matter  belongs  a 


142 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


particular  form;  that  is,  a soul,  a spirit.”  To  this 
element  of  matter,  considered  as  an  abstraction,  in 
its  distinction  from  soul,  Leibniz,  following  the 
scholastics,  and  ultimately  Aristotle,  gives  the 
name,  “ first”  or  “ bare  ” matter.  The  same  influ- 
ence is  seen  in  the  fact  that  he  opposes  this  element 
of  matter  to  “ form,”  or  the  active  principle. 

Our  starting-point,  therefore,  for  the  considera- 
tion of  matter  is  the  statement  that  it  is  receptivity, 
the  capacity  for  being  affected,  which  always  con- 
stitutes matter.  But  what  is  meant  by  “receptiv- 
ity ” ? To  answer  this  question  we  must  return  to 
what  was  said  about  the  two  activities  of  the  monad, 
— representation,  or  perception,  and  appetition, — 
and  to  the  difference  between  confused  and  distinct 
ideas.  The  monad  has  appetition  so  far  as  it  deter- 
mines itself  from  within  to  change,  so  far  as  it 
follows  an  internal  principle  of  energy.  It  is  rep- 
resentative so  far  as  it  is  determined  from  without, 
so  far  as  it  receives  impressions  from  the  universe. 
Yet  we  have  learned  to  know  that  in  one  sense 
everything  occurs  from  the  spontaneity  of  the 
monad  itself ; it  receives  no  influence  or  influxus 
from  without ; everything  comes  from  its  own 
depths,  or  is  appetition.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
all  that  which  so  comes  forth  is  only  a mirroring  or 
copying  of  the  universe.  The  whole  content  of  the 
appetition  is  representation.  Although  the  monad 
works  spontaneously,  it  is  none  the  less  determined 
in  its  activities  to  produce  only  reflections  or  images 
of  the  world.  In  this  way  appetition  and  represen- 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  143 


tation  appear  to  be  identical.  The  monad  is  deter- 
mined from  within,  indeed,  but  it  is  determined  to 
exactly  the  same  results  as  if  wholly  determined 
from  without.  What  light,  then,  can  be  thrown  from 
this  distinction  upon  the  nature  of  matter? 

None,  unless  we  follow  Leibniz  somewhat  farther. 
If  we  do,  we  shall  see  that  the  soul  is  regarded  as 
appetitive,  or  self-active,  so  far  as  it  has  clear  and 
distinct  ideas.  If  the  monad  reaches  distinct  con- 
sciousness, it  has  knowledge  of  self,  — that  is,  of  the 
nature  of  pure  spirit,  — or,  what  again  is  equivalent 
to  this,  of  the  nature  of  reality  as  it  universally  is. 
Such  knowledge  is  knowledge  of  God,  of  substance, 
of  unity,  of  pure  activity,  and  of  all  the  innate  ideas 
which  elevate  the  confused  perceptions  of  sense  into 
science.  Distinct  consciousness  is  therefore  equiv- 
alent to  self-activity,  and  this  to  recognition  of  God 
and  the  universal.  But  if  knowledge  is  confused,  it 
is  not  possible  to  see  it  in  its  relations  to  self  ; it 
cannot  be  analyzed ; the  rational  or  ideal  element 
in  it  is  concealed  from  view.  In  confused  ideas, 
therefore,  the  soul  appears  to  be  passive ; being 
passive,  to  be  determined  from  without.  This  de- 
termination from  without  is  equivalent  to  that 
which  is  opposed  to  spirit  or  reason,  and  hence  ap- 
pears as  matter.  Such  is  in  outline  the  Leibnizian 
philosophy. 

It  thus  is  clear  that  merely  stating  that  matter  is 
passivity  in  the  monad  is  not  the  ultimate  way  of  stat- 
ing its  nature.  For  passivity  means  in  reality  nothing 
but  confused  representations,  — representations,  that 


144 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


is,  whose  significance  is  not  perceived.  The  true  sig- 
nificance of  every  representation  is  found  in  its  rela- 
tion to  the  ego,  or  pure  self-activity,  which,  through 
its  dependent  relation  upon  God,  the  absolute  self- 
activity and  ego,  produces  the  representation  from 
its  own  ideal  being.  So  far  as  the  soul  does  not 
have  distinct  recognition  of  relation  of  all  repre- 
sentations to  self,  it  feels  them  as  coming  from 
without ; as  foreign  to  spirit ; in  short,  as  matter. 
Leibniz  thus  employs  exactly  the  same  language 
about  confused  ideas  that  he  does  about  passivity, 
or  matter.  It  is  not  possible  that  the  monad  should 
have  distinct  consciousness  of  itself  as  a mirror  of 
the  whole  universe,  he  says,  “ for  in  that  case  every 
entelechy  would  be  God.”  Again,  “ the  soul  would 
be  God  if  it  could  enter  at  once  and  with  distinct- 
ness into  everything  occurring  within  it.”  But  it  is 
necessary  “ that  we  should  have  passions  which  con- 
sist in  confused  ideas,  in  which  there  is  something 
involuntary  and  unknown,  and  which  represent  the 
body  and  constitute  our  imperfection.”  Again,  he 
speaks  of  matter  as  “ the  mixture  ( melange ) of  the 
effects  of  the  infinite  environing  us.”  In  that  expres- 
sion is  summed  up  his  whole  theory  of  inatter.  It  is 
a mixture  ; it  is,  that  is  to  say,  confused,  aggregated, 
irresolvable  into  simple  ideas.  But  it  is  a mixture 
of  “ effects  of  the  infinite  about  us  ; ” that  is,  it  takes 
its  rise  in  the  true,  the  real,  the  spiritual.  It  only 
fails  to  represent  this  as  it  actually  is.  Matter,  in 
short,  is  a phenomenon  dependent  upon  inability  to 
realize  the  entire  spiritual  character  of  reality.  It 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  145 

is  spirit  apprehended  in  a confused,  hesitating,  and 
passive  manner. 

It  is  none  the  less  a necessary  phenomenon,  for  it 
is  involved  in  the  idea  of  a continuous  gradation  of 
monads,  in  the  distinction  between  the  infinite  and 
the  finite,  or,  as  Leibniz  often  prefers  to  put  it, 
between  the  “ creator  ” and  the  “ created.”  There  is 
involved  everywhere  in  the  idea  of  Leibniz  the  con- 
ception of  subordination  ; of  a hierarchy  of  forms, 
each  of  which  receives  the  law  of  its  action  from  the 
next  higher,  and  gives  the  law  to  the  next  lower. 
AVe  have  previously  considered  the  element  of  pas- 
sivity or  receptivity  as  relating  only  to  the  monad 
which  manifests  it.  It  is  evident,  however,  that 
what  is  passive  in  one,  implies  something  active  in 
another.  AATiat  one  receives,  is  what  another  gives. 
The  reciprocal  influence  of  monads  upon  one  another, 
therefore,  as  harmonious  members  of  one  system, 
requires  matter.  Alore  strictly  speaking,  this  recip- 
rocal influence  is  matter.  To  take  away  all  recep- 
tivity, all  passivity,  from  monads  would  be  to  isolate 
them  from  all  relations  with  others ; it  would  be  to 
deprive  them  of  all  power  of  affecting  or  being  af- 
fected by  others.  That  is  what  Leibniz  meant  by  the 
expression  already  quoted,  that  if  monads  had  not 
matter  as  an  element  in  them,  “they  would  lie,  as 
it  were,  deserters  from  the  general  order.”  The 
note  of  unity,  of  organic  connection,  which  we  found 
to  be  tire  essence  of  the  Leibniziau  philosophy,  abso- 
lutely requires,  therefore,  matter,  or  passivity. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  reciprocal  in- 
10 


146 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


fluence  is  ideal.  As  Leibniz  remarks,  “ When  it  is 
said  that  one  monad  is  affected  by  another,  this  is 
to  be  understood  concerning  its  representation  of  the 
other.  For  the  Author  of  things  has  so  accommo- 
dated them  to  one  another  that  one  is  said  to  suffer 
(or  receive  from  the  other)  >¥11611  its  relative  value 
gives  way  to  that  of  the  other.”  Or  again,  “the 
modifications  of  one  monad  are  the  ideal  causes  of 
the  modifications  of  another  monad,  so  far  as  there 
appear  in  one  the  reasons  on  account  of  which  God 
brought  about  in  the  beginning  certain  modifications 
in  another.”  And  most  definitely  of  all : “A  crea- 
ture is  called  active  so  far  as  it  has  perfection ; 
passive  in  so  far  as  it  is  imperfect.  One  creature 
is  more  perfect  than  another  so  far  as  there  is  found 
in  it  that  which  serves  to  render  the  reason , a priori, 
for  that  occurring  in  the  other  ; and  it  is  in  this  way 
that  it  acts  upon  the  other.” 

We  are  thus  introduced,  from  a new  point  of 
view  and  in  a more  concrete  way,  to  the  conception 
of  pre-established  harmony.  The  activity  of  one, 
the  energy  which  gives  the  law  to  the  other  and 
makes  it  subordinate  in  the  hierarchy  of  monads, 
is  conceived  necessarily  as  spirit,  as  soul ; that 
which  receives,  which  is  rendered  subordinate  by 
the  activity  of  the  other,  is  body.  The  pre-estab- 
lished harmony  is  the  fact  that  they  are  so  related 
that  one  can  receive  the  law  of  its  activity  from  the 
other.  Leibniz  is  without  doubt  partially  responsi- 
ble for  the  ordinary  misconception  of  his  views 
upon  this  point  by  reason  of  the  illustration  which  he 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  147 


was  accustomed  to  use ; namely,  of  two  clocks  so 
constructed  that  without  any  subsequent  regulation 
each  always  kept  perfect  time  with  the  other,  — as 
much  so  as  if  there  were  some  actual  physical  connec- 
tion between  them.  This  seems  to  put  soul  and  body, 
spirit  and  matter,  as  two  co-ordinate  substances,  on 
the  same  level,  with  such  natural  opposition  between 
them  that  some  external  harmony  must  arrange  some 
unity  of  action.  In  causing  this  common  idea  of  his 
theory  of  pre-established  harmony,  Leibniz  has  paid 
the  penalty  for  attempting  to  do  what  he  often  re- 
proves in  others,  — imagining  or  presenting  in  sensi- 
ble form  what  can  only  be  thought.  But  his  other 
explanations  show  clearly  enough  that  the  pre-estab- 
lished harmony  expresses,  not  a relation  between 
two  parallel  substances,  but  a condition  of  depend- 
ence of  lower  forms  of  activity  upon  the  higher  for 
the  law  of  their  existence  and  activity,  — in  modern 
terms,  it  expresses  the  fact  that  phenomena  are 
conditioned  upon  noumena ; that  material  facts  get 
their  significance  and  share  of  reality  through  their 
relation  to  spirit. 

We  may  sum  up  what  has  been  said  about  matter 
as  an  element  in  the  monad,  or  as  a metaphysical 
principle,  as  follows  : The  existence  of  matter  is  not 
only  not  opposed  to  the  fundamental  ideas  of  Leib- 
niz, but  is  a necessary  deduction  from  them.  It  is 
a necessity  of  the  principle  of  continuity ; for  this 
requires  an  infinity  of  monads,  alike  indeed  in  the 
universal  law  of  their  being,  but  unlike,  each  to 
each,  in  the  specific  coloring  or  manifestation  of  this 


148 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


law.  The  principle  of  organic  unity  requires  that 
there  be  as  many  real  beings  as  possible  participat- 
ing in  and  contributing  to  it.  It  is  necessary,  again, 
in  order  that_there  may  be  reciprocal  influence  or 
connection  among  the  monads.  Were  it  not  for 
the  material  element  in  the  monad,  each  would  be 
a God ; if  each  were  thus  infinite  and  absolute, 
there  would  be  so  many  principles  wholly  indepen- 
dent and  isolated.  The  principle  of  harmony  wou® 
be  violated.  So  much  for  the  necessity  of  the 
material  factor.  As  to  its  nature,  it  is  a principle 
of  passivity  ; that  is,  of  ideal  receptivity,  of  conform- 
ity to  a law  apparently  not  self-imposed,  but  exter- 
nally laid  down.  This  makes  matter  equivalent  to 
a phenomenon  ; that  is  to  say,  to  the  having  of  con- 
fused, imperfect,  inadequate  ideas.  To  say  that 
matter  is  correlative  to  confused  ideas  is  to  say  that 
there  is  no  recognition  of  its  relation  to  self  or  to 
spirit.  As  Leibniz  sometimes  puts  it,  since  there 
is  an  infinity  of  beings  in  the  universe,  each  one  of 
which  exercises  an  ideal  influence  upon  every  other 
one  of  the  series,  it  is  impossible  tliat  this  other  one 
should  realize  their  full  meaning ; they  appear  only 
as  confused  ideas,  or  as  matter.  To  use  language 
which  Leibniz  indeed  does  not  employ,  but  which 
seems  to  convey  his  thought,  the  spirit,  not  seeing 
them  as  they  really  are,  does  not  find  itself  in  them. 
But  matter  is  thus  not  only  the  confused  manifesta- 
tion or  phenomenon  of  spirit,  it  is  also  its  potential- 
ity. Passivity  is  always  relative.  It  does  not  mean 
complete  lack  of  activity  ; that,  as  Leibniz  says,  is 


MATTER  AND  ITS  RELATION  TO  SPIRIT.  149 

nothingness,  and  matter  is  not  a form  of  nothing- 
ness. Leibniz  even  speaks  of  it  as  passive  power. 
That  is  to  say,  there  is  an  undeveloped  or  incom- 
plete activity  in  what  appears  as  matter,  and  this 
may  be,  — if  we  admit  an  infinity  of  time,  — must  be 
developed.  When  developed  it  manifests  itself  as 
it  really  is,  as  spirit.  Confused  ideas,  as  Leibniz 
takes  pains  to  state,  are  not  a genus  of  ideas  anti- 
thetical to  distinct ; they  differ  only  in  degree  or 
grade.  They  are  on  their  way  to  become  distinct, 
or  else  they  are  distinct  ideas  which  have  fallen 
back  into  an  “involved”  state  of  being.  Matter, 
therefore,  is  not  absolutely  opposed  to  spirit,  — on 
the  one  hand  because  it  is  the  manifestation,  the 
phenomenon,  of  spirit ; on  the  other,  because  it  is 
the  potentiality  of  spirit,  capable  of  sometime  rea- 
lizing the  whole  activity  implied  in  it,  but  now 
latent. 

Thus  it  is  that  Leibniz  says  that  everything  is 
“full”  of  souls  or  monads.  What  appears  to  be 
lifeless  is  in  reality  like  a pond  full  of  fishes,  like  a 
drop  of  water  full  of  infusoria.  Everything  is  or- 
ganic down  to  the  last  element.  More  truly,  there 
is  no  last  element.  There  is  a true  infinity  of 
organic  beings  wrapped  up  in  the  slightest  speck 
of  apparently  lifeless  matter.  These  illustrations, 
like  many  others  which  Leibniz  uses,  are  apt  to 
suggest  that  erroneous  conception  of  the  relation 
of  monads  to  spirit  which  we  were  obliged,  in 
Leibniz’s  name,  to  correct  at  the  outset,  — the  idea, 
namely,  that  matter  is  composed,  in  a spatial  or 


150 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


mechanical  way,  of  monads.  But  after  the  forego- 
ing explanations  Ave  can  see  that  what  Leibniz 
means  when  he  says  that  every  portion  of  matter  is 
full  of  entelechies  or  souls,  like  a garden  full  of 
plants,  is  that  there  is  an  absolute  continuity  of 
spiritual  principles,  each  having  its  ideal  relation 
with  every  other.  There  is  no  point  of  matter 
which  does  not  represent  in  a confused  wray  the 
entire  universe.  It  is  therefore  as  infinite  in  its 
activities  as  the  universe.  In  idea  also  it  is  capa- 
ble of  representing  in  distinct  consciousness,  or  as 
a development  of  its  oAvn  self-activity,  each  of 
these  infinite  activities. 

In  a word,  every  created  or  finite  being  may  be 
regarded  as  matter  or  as  spirit,  according  as  it  is 
accounted  for  by  its  external  relations,  as  the  rea- 
sons for  what  happen  in  it  are  to  be  found  elsewhere 
than  in  its  own  explicit  activity,  or  according  as  it 
shows  clearly  in  itself  the  reasons  for  its  own  modi- 
fications, and  also  accounts  for  changes  occurring  in 
other  beings.  The  externally  conditioned  is  mat- 
ter ; the  internally  conditioned,  the  self-explanatory, 
is  self-active,  or  spirit.  Since  all  external  relations 
are  finally  dependent  on  organic  ; since  the  ultimate 
source  of  all  explanation  must  be  that  which  is  its 
own  reason  ; since  the  ultimate  source  of  all  activity 
must  be  that  which  is  self-active,  — the  final  reason 
or  source  of  matter  is  spirit. 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  151 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY. 


E have  seen  the  necessity  and  nature  of  matter 


as  deductions  from  the  fundamental  prin- 
ciples of  Leibniz.  We  have  seen  that  matter  is 
a phenomenon  or  manifestation  of  spirit  in  an  im- 
perfect and  confused  way.  But  why  should  it  ap- 
pear as  moving,  as  extended,  as  resisting,  as  having 
cohesion,  with  all  the  concrete  qualities  which  always 
mark  it?  Is  there  any  connection  between  these 
particular  properties  of  matter  as  physical,  and  its 
“metaphysical”  or  ideal  character?  These  are  the 
questions  which  now  occupy  us.  Stated  more  defi- 
nitely, they  take  the  following  form  : Is  there  any 
essential  connection  between  the  properties  of  mat- 
ter as  a metaphysical  element,  and  its  properties  as 
a sensible  fact  of  experience?  Leibni?  holds  that 
there  is.  He  does  not,  indeed,  explicitly  take  the 
ground  that  we  can  deduce  a priori  all  the  charac- 
teristics of  matter  as  a fact  of  actual  experience 
from  its  rational  notion,  but  he  thinks  we  can  find 
a certain  analogy  between  the  two,  that  the  sensible 
qualities  are  images  or  reflexes  of  the  spiritual  quali- 
ties, witnessing,  so  far  as  possible,  to  their  origin  in 
pure  energy. 


152 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


II is  position  is  as  follows : that  which  in  the 
monad  is  activity  or  substantial,  is,  in  sensible  mat- 
ter, motion.  That  which  in  the  monad  is  lack  of  a 
given  activity,  that  which  constitutes  its  subordinate 
position  in  the  hierarchy  of  monads,  is,  in  the  sphere 
of  material  things,  inertia.  That  which  in  the  spir- 
itual world  is  the  individuality  of  monads,  making 
each  forever  ideally  distinct  from  every  other,  is,  in 
the  phenomenal  realm,  resistance  or  impenetrability. 
The  perfect  . continuity  of  monads  in  the  mundus 
intelligibilis  has  also  its  counterpart  in  the  mundus 
sensibilis  in  the  diffusion  or  extension  of  physical 
things. 

Instead  of  following  out  this  analogy  directly,  it 
will  rather  be  found  convenient  to  take  up  Leibniz’s 
thought  in  its  historical  connection.  We  have 
already  alluded  to  the  fact  that  he  began  as  a Car- 
tesian, and  that  one  of  the  first  ideas  which  repelled 
him  from  that  system  of  thought  was  the  notion 
that  the  essence  of  matter  is  extension.  His  earliest 
philosophical  writings,  as  he  was  gradually  coming 
to  the  thoughts  which  thereafter  dominated  him, 
are  upon  this  point.  In  general,  his  conclusions 
are  as  follows  : If  matter  were  extension,  it  would 
be  incapable  of  passion  or  of  action.  Solidity,  too, 
is  a notion  entirely  opposed  to  the  conception  of 
mere  extension.  The  idea  of  matter  as  extension 
contradicts  some  of  the  known  laws  of  motion.  It 
requires  that  the  quantity  of  motion  remain  un- 
changed whenever  two  bodies  come  in  contact, 
while  as  matter  of  fact  it  is  the  quantity  of  en- 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  153 

ergy,  that  which  the  motion  is  capable  of  effecting, 
that  remains  unchanged  ; or,  as  he  more  often  puts 
the  objection,  the  Cartesian  notion  of  matter  re- 
quires that  matter  be  wholly  indifferent  to  motion, 
that  there  be  nothing  in  it  which  resists  motion  when 
imparted.  But,  says  Leibniz,  there  is  something 
^resisting,  that  to  which  Iveppler  gave  the  name 
“inertia.”  It  is  not  found  to  be  true  if  one  body 
impacts  upon  another  that  the  second  moves  without 
diminishing  the  velocity  or  changing  the  direction 
of  the  first.  On  the  other  hand,  just  in  proportion 
to  the  size  of  the  second  body,  it  resists  and  changes 
the  motion  of  the  first,  up  to  the  point  of  causing 
the  first  to  rebound  if  small  in  comparison.  And 
when  it  was  replied  that  the  retardation  was  due  to 
the  fact  that  the  force  moving  the  first  body  had 
now  to  be  divided  between  two,  Leibniz  answered 
that  this  was  simply  to  give  up  the  contention,  and 
besides  the  notion  of  extension  to  use  that  of  force. 
If  extension  were  the  essence  of  matter,  it  should  be 
possible  to  deduce  all  the  properties  of  matter,  or 
at  least  to  account  for  them  all,  from  it.  But  since, 
as  just  seen,  this  does  not  enable  us  to  account  for 
any  of  them,  since  for  any  of  its  concrete  qualities 
we  have  to  fall  back  on  force,  it  is  evident  where 
the  true  essence  of  matter  is  to  be  found. 

Leibniz  has  another  argument  of  a logical  nature, 
as  those  already  referred  to  are  of  a physical : 
“ Those  wTho  claim  that  extension  is  a substance, 
reverse  the  order  of  words  as  well  as  of  thoughts. 
Besides  extension  there  must  be  a subject  which  is 


154 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


extended ; that  is  to  say,  something  to  which  it 
belongs  to  be  repeated  or  continued.  For  extension 
is  nothing  but  a repetition  or  continued  multiplica- 
tion of  that  which  is  spread  out,  — it  is  a plurality,  a 
continuity,  a co-existence  of  parts.  Consequently, 
extension  does  not  suffice  to  explain  the  nature  of 
the  repeated  or  manifold  substance,  of  which  the 
notion  is  anterior  to  that  of  its  repetition.”  Exten- 
sion, in  other  words,  is  nothing  substantial,  it  is 
not  something  which  can  exist  by  itself ; it  is  only 
a quality,  a property,  a mode  of  being.  It  is 
always  relative  to  something  which  has  extension. 
As  Leibniz  says  elsewhere  : “ I insist  that  extension 
is  oidy  an  abstraction , and  requires  something  which 
is  extended.  It  presupposes  some  quality,  some 
attribute,  some  nature  in  a subject  which  is  ex- 
tended, diffused,  or  continued.  Extension  is  a dif- 
fusion of  this  quality.  For  example,  in  milk  there  is 
an  extension  or  diffusion  of  whiteness ; in  the  dia- 
mond an  extension  or  diffusion  of  hardness ; in 
body  in  general  a diffusion  of  antitypia  or  mate- 
riality. There  is  accordingly  in  body  something 
anterior  to  extension.” 

From  the  physical  side,  therefore,  we  find  it  im- 
possible to  account  for  the  concrete  properties  of 
material  phenomena  from  extension  ; on  the  logical 
we  find  that  the  idea  of  extension  is  always  relative 
to  that  which  is  extended.  What  is  that  which  is 
to  be  considered  as  the  bearer  of  extension  and  the 
source  of  physical  qualities?  We  are  led  back  to 
the  point  at  which  we  left  the  matter  in  the  last 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  155 

chapter.  It  is  force,  and  force  both  passive  and 
active.  Leibniz  uses  the  term  “ matter”  in  at  least 
three  senses  : it  is  the  metaphysical  element  of  pas- 
sive force  in  the  monad ; it  is  the  monad  itself 
considered  as,  upon  the  whole,  externally  condi- 
tioned or  unconscious  ; and  it  is  the  phenomenon 
resulting  from  the  aggregation  of"  the  monads  in  the 
second  sense.  The  first  is  naked  matter,  and  is  a 
pure  abstraction  ; the  second  is  the  monad  as  mate- 
rial, as  opposed  to  the  monad,  as  soul ; the  third  is 
clothed,  or  second  matter,  or,  concretely,  body,  cor- 
pus. The  first  is  unreal  by  itself ; the  second  is 
one  phase  of  substance  ; the  third  is  not  substantial, 
but  is  a reality,  though  a phenomenal  one.  It  is 
from  the  substantial  monad  that  we  are  to  explain 
the  two  things  now  demanding  explanation,  — that 
element  in  bodies  (matter  in  third  sense)  which 
is  the  source  of  them  physical  properties,  and  that 
which  is  the  subject,  the  carrier,  so  to  speak,  of 
extension. 

That  of  which  we  are  in  search  as  the  source  of  the 
physical  qualities  of  bodies  is  motion.  This  is  not 
force,  but  its  “image.”  It  is  force,  says  Leibniz, 
that  “ is  the  real  element  in  motion  ; that  is  to  say, 
it  is  that  element  which  out  of  the  present  state  in- 
duces a change  in  the  future  state.”  As  force,  in 
other  words,  is  the  causal  activity  which  effects  the 
development  of  one  “ representation  ” of  a monad  out 
of  another,  so  motion,  in  the  realm  of  phenomena, 
is  not  only  change,  but  change  which  is  continuous 
and  progressive,  each  new  position  being  dependent 


15G 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


upon  the  foregoing,  and  following  out  of  it  abso- 
lutely without  break. 

Motion,  therefore,  is  the  manifestation  of  the 
ideal  unity  of  substance,  — a unity  not  of  mere 
static  inherence,  but  of  a continuous  process  of  ac- 
tivity. It  is  from  this  standpoint  that  Leibniz  ac- 
counts for  the  so-called  transference  of  motion  from 
one  body  to  another  upon  contact.  The  ordinary 
view  of  this,  which  looks  at  it  as  if  one  body  loses 
the  motion  which  another  body  gains,  Leibniz 
ridicules,  saying  that  those  who  hold  this  view  seem 
to  think  that  motion  is  a kind  of  thing,  resembling, 
perchance,  salt  dissolved  in  water.  The  right  view, 
on  the  other  hand,  does  away  with  all  appearance  of 
mystery  in  the  carrying  over  of  motion  from  one 
body  to  another,  for  it  recognizes  that  continuity  is 
the  very  essence  of  motion,  and  that  we  do  not 
have  two  things  and  a third  process,  but  that  the 
two  bodies  are  phases  or  elements  in  one  and  the 
same  system  of  movement. 

Starting  from  this  idea  of  motion,  then,  Leibniz 
is  to  account  for  the  actual  qualities  of  matter  as 
found  in  experience.  These  are  the  form,  magni- 
tude, cohesion,  resistance,  and  the  purely  sensible 
qualities  of  objects.  “ First  ” matter,  that  is,  ab- 
stract matter,  may  be  conceived,  according  to  Leib- 
niz, as  perfectly  homogeneous,  a “ subtle  fluid,”  in 
his  words,  without  any  distinction  of  parts  or  of  so- 
lidity. But  this  is  an  abstract  notion.  It  is  what 
matter  would  be  without  motion.  Motion  neces- 
sarily differentiates  this  plenum  of  homogeneity,  and 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  157 

thus  causes  distinctions  of  figure  (that  is,  bounda- 
ries of  parts)  and  varieties  of  cohesion,  or  the 
varying  solidity  and  fluidity  of  bodies.  The  latter 
difference  is  indeed  the  ultimate  one.  The  principle 
of  continuity  or  gradation,  as  applied  to  motion, 
makes  it  necessary  that  motions  should  not  be  in 
any  two  places  of  exactly  the  same  energy.  The 
result  is  that  the  original  fluid  matter  is  everywhere 
differently  divided.  Motion,  entering  into  the  uni- 
form plenum,  introduces  distinction ; it  causes  so 
much  of  the  matter  as  is  affected  by  a given  move- 
ment to  collect  together  and  form  in  appearance  a 
coherent  body,  as  opposed  to  surrounding  bodies 
which  are  affected  by  different  degrees  of  energy. 
But  even  this  is  only  approximate  ; the  same  princi- 
ple of  continuity  must  be  applied  within  any 
apparently  coherent  body  ; its  parts,  while,  in  rela- 
tion to  other  bodies,  they  have  the  same  amount  of 
motion,  are  in  relation  to  one  another  differently 
affected.  There  are  no  two  having  exactly  the 
same  motion  ; if  they  had,  there  would  be  no  dis- 
tinction between  them  ; and  thus,  according  to  the 
principle  of  Leibniz,  they  would  be  the  same. 

It  follows  at  once  from  this  that  there  is  in  the 
universe  no  body  of  absolute  hardness  or  solidity, 
nor  of  entire  softness  or  fluidity.  A perfectly  solid 
body  would  be  one  whose  system  of  motions  could 
not  be  affected  by  any  other  system,  — a body  which 
by  motion  had  separated  itself  from  motion,  or  be- 
come absolute.  This  is  evidently  an  idea  which 
contradicts  itself,  for  the  very  essence  of  motion  is 


158 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


continuity  or  relation.  A body  perfectly  fluid,  on 
the  other  hand,  would  be  one  in  which  there  was 
no  resistance  offered  to  other  motions,  — a body,  in 
other  words,  in  which  there  are  no  movements 
that,  entering  into  connection  with  one  another, 
form  a relative  opposition  to  other  movements. 
It  would  be  a body  isolated  or  out  of  relation  with 
the  general  system  of  motions,  and  hence  an  im- 
possibility. There  is  no  last  term  either  of  solidity 
or  of  fluidity. 

It  equally  follows  as  matter  of  course  that  there 
is  no  indivisible  particle  of  matter,  — no  atom. 
The  infinity  of  degrees  of  motion  implies  a corre- 
sponding division  of  matter.  As  already  said,  it  is 
only  in  contrast  with  other  relatively  constant  sys- 
tems of  motion  that  any  body  is  of  uniform  motion  ; 
in  reality  there  is  everywhere  throughout  it  variety 
of  movement,  and  hence  complete  divisibility,  or 
rather,  complete  division.  If  Leibniz  were  to  em- 
ploy the  term  “ atom”  at  all,  it  could  be  only  in  the 
sense  of  the  modern  dynamical  theory  (of  which, 
indeed,  he  is  one  of  the  originators),  according  to 
which  the  atom  is  not  defined  by  its  spatial  position 
and  outlines,  but,  by  the  range  of  its  effects,  as  the 
centre  of  energies  of  infinite  circumference.  Correl- 
ative to  the  non-existence  of  the  atom  is  the  non- 
existence of  the  vacuum.  The  two  imply  each 
other.  The  hard,  limited,  isolated  body,  having  no 
intrinsic  relations  with  other  bodies,  must  have  room 
to  come  into  external  relations  witli  them.  This 
empty  space,  which  is  the  theatre  of  such  accidental 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  159 

contacts  as  may  happen,  is  the  vacuum.  But 
if  bodies  are  originally  in  connection  with  one 
another,  if  they  are  in  reality  but  differentiations 
of  varying  degrees  of  motion  within  one  system  of 
motion,  then  there  is  no  necessity  for  the  vacuum, 
— nay,  there  is  no  place  for  it.  The  vacuum  in  this 
case  could  mean  only  a break,  a chasm,  in  the  order 
of  nature.  According  to  the  theory  of  Leibniz, 
“bodies”  are  but  the  dynamic  divisions  of  the  one 
energy  that  fills  the  universe  ; their  separateness  is 
not  an  independent  possession  of  any  one  of  them 
or  of  all  together,  but  is  the  result  of  relations  to 
the  entire  system.  Their  apparent  isolation  is  only 
by  reason  of  their  actual  connections.  To  admit  a 
vacuum  anywhere,  would  thus  be  to  deny  the  relat- 
edness of  the  parts  separated  by  it.  The  theory  of 
the  atom  and  the  vacuum  are  the  two  phases  of 
the  metaphysical  assumption  of  an  indefinite  plu- 
rality of  independent  separate  realities.  The  the- 
ory of  Leibniz,  resting  as  it  does  on  the  idea  of 
a perfect  unity  of  interrelated  members,  must  deny 
both  of  these  aspects.  Were  we  making  an  ex- 
tended analysis  of  the  opposed  view,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  point  out  that  it  denies  itself.  For 
it  is  only  through  the  vacuum  that  the  atoms  are 
isolated  or  independent,  and  the  sole  function  of 
the  vacuum  is  to  serve  as  -the  background  of  the 
atoms.  The  atoms,  are  separated  only  in  virtue  of 
their  connection,  and  the  vacuum  is  wdiat  it  is  — 
pure  emptiness  — only  on  account  of  that  which  is 
in  it.  In  short,  the  theory  is  only  an  abstract  and 


160 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


incomplete  way  of  grasping  the  thought  of  relation 
or  mediated  unity. 

We  have  thus  discovered  that  all  motions  con- 
spire together,  or  form  a system.  But  in  their 
unity  they  do  not  cease  to  be  motions,  or  variously 
differentiated  members.  Through  this  differenti- 
ation, or  mutual  reaction  of  motions,  there  comes 
about  the  appearance  of  boundaries,  of  separation. 
From  these  boundaries  or  terminations  arise  the 
form  and  size  of  bodies.  From  motion  also  proceeds 
the  cohesion  of  bodies,  in  the  sense  that  each  re- 
lative system  resists  dissolution,  or  hangs  together. 
Says  Leibniz,  “The  motions,  since  they  are  con- 
spiring, would  be  troubled  by  separation ; and 
accordingly  this  can  be  accomplished  only  by 
violence  and  with  resistance.”  Not  only  form,  size, 
and  stability  depend  upon  motion,  but  also  the 
sensible,  the  “secondary”  qualities.  “It  must 
not  be  supposed  that  color,  pain,  sound,  etc.,  are 
arbitrary  and  without  relation  to  their  causes.  It 
is  not  God’s  way  to  act  with  so  little  reason  and 
order.  There  is  a kind  of  resemblance,  not  entire, 
but  of  relation,  of  order.  We  say,  for  example, 
‘ Light  is  in  the  fire,’  since  there  are  motions  in  the 
fire  which  are  imperceptible  in  their  separation, 
but  which  are  sensible  in  their  conjunction  or  con- 
fusion ; and  this  is  what  is  made  known  in  the  idea 
of  light.”  In  other  words,  color,  sound,  etc.,  even 
pain,  are  still  the  perception  of  motion,  but  in  a 
confused  way.  We  thus  see  how  thoroughly  Leibniz 
carries  back  all  the  properties  of  bodies  to  motion. 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  161 

To  sum  up,  "motion  is  the  origin  of  the  relative 
solidity,  the  divisibleness,  the  form,  the  size,  the 
cohesion,  or  active  resistance  of  bodies,  and  of  their 
properties  as  made  known  to  us  in  immediate 
sensation. 

In  all  that  has  been  said  it  has  been  implied  that 
extension  is  already  in  existence  ; “ first  matter  ” is 
supposed  to  fill  all  space,  and  motion  to  determine 
it  to  take  upon  itself  its  actual  concrete  properties. 
But  this  “first  matter,”  when  thus  spoken  of,  has 
a somewhat  mythological  sound,  even  if  it  be  ad- 
mitted that  it  is  an  abstraction.  For  how  can  an 
abstraction  be  extended  in  space,  and  how  can  it 
form,  as  it  were,  a background  upon  which  motion 
displays  itself?  The  idea  of  “ first  matter”  in  its 
relation  to  extension  evidently  demands  explana- 
tion. In  seeking  this  explanation  we  shall  also 
learn  about  that  “subject”  which  Leibniz  said 
was  necessarily  presupposed  in  extension,  as  a 
concrete  thing  is  required  for  a quality. 

The  clew  to  the  view  of  Leibniz  upon  this  point 
may  be  derived,  I think,  from  the  following  quo- 
tations : — 

“If  it  were  possible  to  see  what  makes  extension, 
that  kind  of  extension  which  falls  under  our  eyes 
at  present  would  vanish,  and  our  minds  would 
perceive  nothing  else  than  simple  realities  existing 
in  mutual  externality  to  one  another.  It  would  be 
as  if  we  could  .distinguish  the  minute  particles  of 
matter  variously  disposed  from  which  a painted 
image  is  formed  : if  we  could  do  it,  the  image,  which 
11 


1G2 


leibxiz’s  new  essays. 


is  nothing  but  a phenomenon,  would  vanish.  . . . 
If  we  think  of  two  simple  realities  as  both  existing 
at  the  same  time,  but  distinct  from  one  another,  we 
look  at  them  as  if  they  were  outside  of  one  another, 
and  hence  conceive  them  as  extended.” 

The  monads  are  outside  of  one  another,  not 
spatially,  but  ideally  ; but  this  reciprocal  distinction 
from  one  another,  if  it  is  to  appear  in  phe- 
nomenal mode,  must  take  the  form  of  an  image, 
and  the  image  is  spatial.  But  if  the  monads  were 
pure  activity,  they  would  not  take  phenomenal  form 
or  appear  in  an  image.  They  would  alwrays  be 
thought  just  as  they  are,  — unextended  activities 
realizing  the  spiritual  essence  of  the  universe.  But 
they  are  not  pure  activity  ; they  are  passive  as  well. 
It  is  in  virtue  of  this  passive  element  that  the  ideal 
externality  takes  upon  itself  phenomenal  or  sensible 
form,  and  thus  appears  as  spatial  externality. 

Leibniz,  in  a passage  already  quoted,  refers  to 
.the  diffusion  of  materiality  or  antitypia.  This  word, 
which  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the  discussions 
of  Leibniz,  he  translates  generally  as  “impenetra- 
bility,” sometimes  as  “ passive  resistance.”  It  cor- 
responds to  the  solidity  or  resistance  of  which 
Locke  spoke  as  forming  the  essence  of  matter. 
Antitypia  is  the  representation  by  a monad  of  the 
passive  element  in  other  monads.  Leibniz  sometimes 
speaks  as  if  all  created  monads  had  in  themselves 
antitypia,  and  hence  extension ; but  he  more  ac- 
curately expresses  it  by  saying  that  they  need 
(exigent)  it.  This  is  a technical  term  which  he 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  1G3 

elsewhere  uses  to  express  the  relation  of  the  pos- 
sible to  the  actual.  The  possible  “needs”  the 
actual,  not  in  the  sense  that  it  necessarily  requires 
existence,  but  in  the  sense  that  when  the  actual 
gives  it  existence,  it  is  the  logical  basis  of  the 
actual, — the  actual,  on  the  other  hand,  being  its 
real  complement.  The  passivity  of  the  monad  is 
therefore  at  once  the  logical  basis  and  the  possi- 
bility of  the  impenetrability  of  matter.  It  is  ow- 
ing to  the  passivity  of  the  monad  that  it  does  not 
adequately  reflect  (that  it  is  not  transparent  to,  so 
to  speak)  the  activities  of  other  monads.  In  its 
irresponsiveness,  it  fails  to  mirror  them  in  itself. 
It  may  be  said,  therefore,  to  be  impenetrable  to 
them.  They  in  turn,  so  far  as  they  are  passive, 
are  impenetrable  to  it.  Now  the  impenetrable  is, 
ex  vi  terminis , that  which  excludes,  and  that  which 
excludes,  not  in  virtue  of  its  active  elasticity,  but 
in  virtue  of  its  mere  inertia,  its  dead  weight,  as  it 
were,  of  resistance.  But  mutual  exclusion  of  this 
passive  sort  constitutes  that  which  is  extended. 
Extension  is  the  abstract  quality  of  this  concrete 
subject.  Such,  in  effect,  is  the  deduction  which 
Leibniz  gives  of  body,  or  physical  matter,  '-from 
matter  as  metaphysical ; of  matter  as  sensible  or 
phenomenal,  from  matter  as  ideal  or  as  intelligible. 

If  we  put  together  what  has  been  said,  it  is  clear 
that  material  phenomena  (bodies,  corpora , in  Leib- 
niz’s phrase)  simply  repeat  in  another  sphere  the 
properties  of  the  spiritual  monad.  There  is  a com- 
plete parallelism  between  every  property,  each  to 


164 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


each,  and  this  necessarily ; for  every  property  of 
“ body  ” is  in  logical  dependence  upon,  and  a phe- 
nomenalization  of,  some  spiritual  or  ideal  quality. 
Motion  is  the  source  of  all  the  dynamic  qualities  of 
body,  and  motion  is  the  reflection  of  Force,  that 
force  which  is  Life.  But  this  force  in  all  finite  forms 
is  conditioned  by  a passive,  unreceptive,  unrespon- 
sive factor ; and  this  must  also  have  its  correlate  in 
“ body.”  This  correlate  is  primarily  impenetrability, 
and  secondarily  extension.  Thus  it  is  that  concrete 
body  always  manifests  motion,  indeed,  but  upon  a 
background  of  extension,  and  against  inertia.  It 
never  has  free  play ; had  it  an  unrestrained  field 
of  activity,  extension  would  disappear,  and  spatial 
motion  would  vanish  into  ideal  energy.  On  the 
other  hand,  were  the  essence  of  matter  found  in 
resistance  or  impenetrability,  it  would  be  wholly 
inert ; it  would  be  a monotone  of  extension,  without 
variety  of  form  or  cohesion.  As  Leibniz  puts  it 
with  reference  to  Locke,  “ body  ” implies  motion, 
or  impetuosity,  resistance,  and  cohesion.  Motion  is 
the  active  principle,  resistance  the  passive ; while 
cohesion,  with  its  various  grades  of  completeness, 
which  produce  form,  size,  and  solidity,  is  the  result 
of  their  union. 

Leibniz,  like  Plato,  has  an  intermediary  between 
the  rational  and  the  sensible  ; and  as  Plato  found 
that  it  was  mathematical  relations  that  mediate 
between  the  permanent  and  unified  Ideas  and  the 
changing  manifold  objects,  so  Leibniz  found  that 
the  relations  of  space  and  time  form  the  natural 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  165 

transition  from  the  sphere  of  monads  to  the  world 
of  bodies.  As  Plato  found  that  it  was  the  possi- 
bility of  applying  mathematical  considerations  to 
the  world  of  images  that  showed  the  participation 
of  Ideas  in  them,  and  constituted  such  reality  as 
they  had,  so  Leibniz  found  that  space  and  time 
formed  the  element  of  order  and  regularity  among 
sense  phenomena,  and  thus  brought  them  into  kin- 
ship with  the  monads  and  made  them  subjects  of 
science.  It  is  implied  in  what  is  here  said  that 
Leibniz  distinguished  between  space  and  time  on 
the  one  hand,  and  duration  and  extension  on  the 
other.  This  distinction,  which  Leibniz  draws  re- 
peatedly and  with  great  care,  has  been  generally 
overlooked  by  his  commentators.  But  it  is  evident 
that  this  leaves  Leibniz  in  a bad  plight.  Mathe- 
matics, in  its  various  forms,  is  the  science  of  spatial 
and  temporal  relations.  But  if  these  are  identical 
with  the  forms  of  duration  and  extension,  they  are 
purely  phenomenal  and  sensible.  The  science  of 
them,  according  to  the  Leibuizian  distinction  be- 
tween the  absolutely  real  and  the  phenomenally 
real,  would  be  then  a science  of  the  confused,  the 
imperfect,  and  the  transitory  ; in  fact,  no  science  at 
all.  But  mathematics,  ou  the  contrary,  is  to  Leib- 
niz the  type  of  demonstrative,  conclusive  science. 
Space  and  time  are,  in  his  own  words,  “innate  ideas,” 
and  the  entire  science  of  them  is  the  drawing  out  of  the 
content  of  these  innate  — that  is,  rational,  distinct, 
and  eternal  — ideas.  But  extension  and  duration  are 
sensible  experiences  ; not  rational,  but  phenomenal ; 


166 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


not  distinct,  but  confused  ; not  eternal,  but  evanes- 
cent. We  may  be  sure  that  this  contradiction  would 
not  escape  Leibniz,  although  it  has  many  of  his  critics 
and  historians. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  he  occasionally  uses  the 
terms  as  synonymous  ; but  this  where  the  distinction 
between  them  has  no  bearing  on  the  argument  in 
hand,  and  where  the  context  determines  in  what 
sense  the  term  is  used.  The  distinction  which  he 
actually  makes,  and  to  which  he  keeps  when  space 
and  time  are  the  subject  of  discussion,  is  that  ex- 
tension and  duration  are  qualities  or  predicates  of 
objects  and  events,  while  space  and  time  are  rela- 
tions, or  orders  of  existence.  Extension  and  dura- 
tion are,  as  he  says,  the  immensity , the  mass,  the 
continuation,  the  repetition,  of  some  underlying 
subject.  But  space  and  time  are  tire  measure  of  the 
mass,  the  rule  or  law  of  the  continuation,  the  order 
or  mode  of  the  repetition.  Thus  immediately  after 
the  passage  already  quoted,  in  which  he  says  that 
extension  in  body  is  the  diffusion  of  materiality, 
just  as  whiteness  is  the  diffusion  of  a property  of 
milk,  he  goes  on  to  say  “ that  extension  is  to  space 
as  duration  to  time.  Duration  and  extension  are 
attributes  of  things  ; but  space  and  time  are  to  be 
considered,  as  it  were,  outside  of  things,  and  as 
serving  to  measure  them.”  Still  more  definitely  he 
says:  “ Many  confound  the  immensity  or  extent 
of  things  with  the  space  by  means  of  which  this 
extent  is  defined.  Space  is  not  the  extension  of 
body,  any  more  than  duration  is  its  time.  Things 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  167 

keep  their  extension,  not  always  their  space.  Ev- 
erything has  its  own  extent  and  duration  ; but  it 
does  not  have  a time  of  its  own,  nor  keep  for  its 
own  a space.”  Or,  as  he  expresses  the  latter  idea 
elsewhere,  space  is  like  number,  in  the  sense  that 
it  is  indifferent  to  spatial  things,  just  as  number  is 
(indifferent  to  res  numerata.  Just  as  the  number 
five  is  not  a quality  or  possession  of  any  object,  or 
group  of  objects,  but  expresses  an  order  or  relation 
among  them,  so  a given  space  is  not  the  property 
of  a thing,  but  expresses  the  order  of  its  parts  to 
one  another.  But  extension,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
a property  of  the  given  objects.  While  extension, 
therefore,  must  always  belong  to  some  actual  thing, 
space,  as  a relation,  is  as  applicable  to  possible 
things  as  to  actual  existences ; so  that  Leibniz 
sometimes  says  that  time  and  space  “ express  pos- 
sibilities.” They  are  that  which  makes  it  possible 
for  a definite  and  coherent  order  of  experiences 
to  exist.  They  determine  existence  in  some  of 
its  relations,  and  as  such  are  logically  prior  to  any 
given  forms  of  existence  ; while  extent  and  duration 
are  always  qualities  of  some  given  form  of  existence, 
and  hence  logically  derivative.  Since  time  and 
space  “ characterize  possibilities”  as  well  as  actual- 
ities, it  follows  as  a matter  of  course  “ that  they  are 
of  the  nature  of  eternal  truths,  which  relate  equally 
to  the  possible  and  to  the  existing.”  Being  an  eter- 
nal truth,  space  must  have  its  place  in  that  which  is 
simply  the  active  unity  of  all  eternal  truths,  — the 
mind  of  God.  “ Its  truth  and  reality  are  based 


168 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


upon  God.  It  is  an  order  whose  source  is  God.” 
Since  God  is  purus  actus,  lie  is  the  immediate,  the 
efficient  source  only  of  that  which  partakes  in  soihe 
degree  of  his  own  nature,  or  is  rational ; and  here 
is  another  clear  point  of  distinction  between  space 
and  extension,  between  time  and  duration. 

But  we  must  ask  more  in  detail  regarding  their 
nature.  Admitting  that  they  are  relations,  ideal  and 
prior  to  particular  experiences,  the  question  must  be 
asked,  What  sort  of  relations  are  they  ; how  are  they 
connected  with  the  purely  spiritual  on  one  hand,  and 
with  the  phenomenal  on  the  other?  Leibniz’s  most 
extended  answers  to  these  questions  are  given  in  his 
controversy  with  Clarke.  The  latter  took  much  the 
same  position  regarding  the  nature  of  space  (though 
not,  indeed,  concerning  the  origin  of  its  idea)  as  Locke, 
and  the  arguments  which  Leibniz  uses  against  him 
he  might  also  have  used,  for  the  most  part,  against 
Locke.  Locke  and  Clarke  both  conceived  of  space 
and  time  as  wholly  without  intrinsic  relation  to  ob- 
jects and  events.  It  is  especially  against  this  po- 
sition that  Leibniz  argues,  holding  that  space  and 
time  are  simply  orders  or  relations  of  objects  and 
events,  that  space  exists  only  where  objects  are  ex- 
isting, and  that  it  is  the  order  of  their  co-existence, 
or  of  their  possible  co-existence  ; while  time  exists 
only  as  events  are  occurring,  and  is  the  relation  of 
their  succession.  Clarke,  on  the  other  hand,  speaks 
of  the  universe  of  objects  as  bounded  by  and  mov- 
ing about  in  an  empty  space,  and  says  that  time 
existed  before  God  created  the  finite  world,  so  that 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  1C9 


the  world  came  into  a time  already  there  to  receive 
its  on-goings,  just  as  it  fell  into  a space  already 
there  to  receive  its  co-existences. 

To  get  at  the  ideas  of  Leibniz,  therefore,  we  can- 
not do  better  than  follow  the  course  of  this  discus- 
sion. He  begins  by  saying  that  both  space  and 
time  are  purely  relative,  one  being  the  order  of  co- 
existences, the  other  of  successions.  Space  charac- 
terizes in  terms  of  possibility  an  order  of  things 
existing  at  the  same  time,  so  far  as  they  exist  in 
mutual  relations  (ensemble) , without  regard  to  their 
special  modes  of  existence.  As  to  the  alternate 
doctrine  that  space  is  a substance,  or  something  ab- 
solute, it  contradicts  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason. 
Were  space  something  absolutely  uniform,  without 
things  placed  in  it,  there  would  be  no  difference  be- 
tween one  part  and  another,  and  it  would  be  a mat- 
ter of  utter  indifference  to  God  why  he  gave  bodies 
certain  positions  in  space  rather  than  others  ; simi- 
larly it  would  be  a matter  of  indifference  why  he 
created  the  world  when  he  did,  if  time  were  some- 
thing independent  of  events.  In  other  words,  the 
supposed  absoluteness  of  space  and  time  would 
render  the  action  of  God  wholly  without  reason, 
capricious,  and  at  haphazard.  Similarly,  it  contra- 
dicts the  principle  of  “ indiscernibles,”  by  which 
Leibniz  means  the  principle  of  specification,  or  dis- 
tinction. According  to  him,  to  suppose  two  things 
exactly  alike,  is  simply  to  imagine  the  same  thing 
twice.  Absolute  uniformity,  wholly  undifferen- 
tiated, is  a fiction  impossible  to  realize  in  thought. 


170 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


“ Space  considered  without  objects  lias  nothing  in 
it  to  determine  it ; it  is  accordingly  nothing  actual. 
The  parts  of  space  must  be  determined  and  dis- 
tinguished by  the  objects  which  are  in  them.” 
Finally,  were  space  and  time  absolutely  real  things 
in  themselves,  they  would  be  independent  of  God, 
and  even  limitations  upon  him.  “ They  would  be 
more  substantial  than  substances.  God  would  not 
be  able  to  change  or  destroy  them.  They  would  be 
immutable  and  eternal  in  every  part.  Thus  there 
would  be  an  infinity  of  eternal  things  (these  parts) 
independent  of  God.”  They  would  limit  God  be- 
cause he  would  be  obliged  to  exist  in  them.  Only 
by  existing  through  this  independent  time  would  he 
be  eternal ; only  by  extending  through  this  inde- 
pendent space  would  he  be  omnipresent.  Space 
and  time  thus  become  gods  themselves. 

When  Clarke  declares  that  by  the  absoluteness 
of  space  and  time  he  does  not  mean  that  they  are 
themselves  substances,  but  only  properties,  attri- 
butes of  substance,  Leibniz  advances  the  same 
arguments  in  different  form.  If  space  were  the 
property  of  the  things  that  are  in  space,  it  would 
belong  now  to  one  substance,  now  to  another,  and 
when  empty  of  all  material  substance,  even  to  an 
immaterial  substance,  perhaps  to  God.  “ Truly  a 
strange  attribute  which  is  handed  about  from 
one  thing  to  another.  Substances  thus  leave  their 
accidents  as  if  they  were  old  clothes,  and  other 
substances  put  them  on.”  Since  these  finite  spaces 
are  in  infinite  space,  and  the  latter  is  an  attribute 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  171 

of  God,  it  must  be  that  au  attribute  of  God  is 
composed  of  parts,  some  of  them  empty,  some  full, 
some  round,  some  square.  So,  too,  -whatever  is 
in  time  wTould  help  make  one  of  the  attributes  of 
God.  “ Truly  a strange  God,”  says  Leibniz,  “ this 
Deity  of  parts”  (ce  Dieu  cl  parties).  Clarke’s  reply 
to  this  was  that  space  and  time  are  attributes  of 
God  and  of  God  alone,  not  of  things  in  space  and 
time,  — that,  indeed,  strictly  speaking,  there  are  no 
parts  in  space  or  in  time  ; they  are  absolutely  one. 
This  was  virtually  to  give  up  the  whole  matter.  It 
was  to  deny  the  existence  of  finite  spaces  and  times, 
and  to  resolve  them  into  an  indefinite  attribute  of 
God.  Such  a view,  as  Leibniz  points  out,  not  only 
is  contrary  to  experience,  but  affords  no  aid  in 
determining  the  actual  concrete  forms  and  situations 
of  bodies,  and  durations  and  successions  of  events. 
The  absolute  space  and  time,  having  no  parts,  are 
wholly  out  of  relations  to  these  concrete  existences. 
The  latter  require,  therefore,  a space  and  a time 
that  are  relations  or  orders.  Clarke’s  hypothesis 
is,  as  Leibniz  says,  wholly  without  use  or  function, 
and  requires  a theory  like  that  of  Leibniz  to  account 
for  the  actually  determinate  forms  of  experience. 
In  his  last  reply  Clarke  shifts  his  ground  again, 
and  says  that  space  and  time  are  effects  of  God’s 
existence;  “ they  are  the  necessary  results  of  his 
existence.”  “His  existence  is  the  cause  of  space 
and  time.”  The  death  of  Leibniz  prevented  any 
further  reply.  It  is  not  hard  to  imagine,  however, 
that  in  a general  way  his  reply  would  have  been  to 


172  LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 

ask  liow  space  and  time  are  at  once  attributes  essen- 
tial and  necessary  to  God,  as  constituting  his  im- 
mensity and  eternity,  and  effects  dependent  upon 
his  existence.  To  take  this  latter  position,  indeed, 
seems  to  abandon  the  position  that  they  are  ab- 
solute, and  to  admit  that,  like  the  rest  of  God’s 
creation,  they  are  relative  and  finite. 

So  much  for  Leibniz’s  polemic.  Its  meaning  is 
that  space  and  time  have  significance  only  with 
reference  to  tilings  and  events,  that  they  are  the 
intellectual,  the  ideal  side  of  these  objects  and 
occurrences,  being  the  relations  which  give  them 
order  and  unity.  A space  which  is  not  the  space 
of  objects,  which  is  not  space  in  and  through  ob- 
jects, is  an  inanity  ; it  is  not  spirit,  it  is  not  matter  ; 
it  is  not  a relation  of  either.  It  is  nothingness 
magnified  to  infinity,  and  then  erected  into  existence. 
And  all  for  nothing  ; for  it  does  not  enable  us  to 
account  for  a single  concrete  fact  of  experience. 
For  this  we  must  have  recourse  to  relations  and 
orders  of  existence.  Space  is  therefore  to  be 
defined  as  the  order  which  makes  it  possible  for 
objects  to  have  situation  ; time  as  that  which  makes 
it  possible  for  events  to  have  dating,  — not  as  if 
they  were  actually  prior  to  them,  and  although 
nothings  in  themselves,  yet  capable  of  giving  con- 
crete determination  to  things,  but  as  actually  the 
relations  themselves,  and  as  ideally  necessary  for 
the  coherent  experience  of  co-existent  objects  and 
of  connected  events.  _ As  Leibniz  puts  it  epi- 
grammatically : “ Space  is  the  order  of  possible 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  173 

constants ; time  the  order  of  inconstant  possibil- 
ities.” 

We  have  finished  the  exposition  of  the  views 
of  Leibniz  about  matter  and  material  facts.  One 
question,  however,  remains  to  be  discussed,  — a 
question  which  Leibniz’s  contemporary  critics  would 
not  allow  him  to  pass  over  in  silence,  even  had  he 
been  so  disposed.  What  is  the  reality  of  matter, 
of  motion,  of  space,  and  of  time?  Since  they  are, 
as  Leibniz  says,  only  phenomena,  not  absolute 
realities,  what  distinguishes  them  from  dreams, 
from  illusions?  What  distinguishes  sensible  phe- 
nomena from  capricious  fantasies,  and  gives  them 
reality  ? 

Leibniz  begins  his  answer  by  pointing  out  that 
the  mere  fact  that  bodies  are  phenomena  does  not 
make  them  unreal.  To  say  that  anything  is  phe- 
nomenal is  to  say  that  it  is  sensible;  but  “the 
senses  make  no  declaration  regarding  metaphysical 
matters  ” such  as  truth  and  reality.  The  senses,  in 
a word,  only  inform  us  that  the  experiences  are  there 
for  the  senses,  that  they  are  sensible.  What  is  the 
ultimate  nature  of  the  sensible  or  the  phenomenal, 
what  is  their  reality,  is  a question  wholly  outside 
the  province  of  sense.  The  questions  of  ultimate 
nature,  of  reality,  are  questions  of  metaphysics,  and 
hence  are  to  be  decided  by  the  reason,  not  by  the 
senses.  And  Leibniz  goes  on  to  say  that  the  truth- 
fulness of  the  senses,  since  it  concerns  only  the 
sensible,  consists  in  the  reciprocal  agreement  of 
sensible  facts,  and  in  that  we  are  not  deceived  in 


174 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


reasoning  from  one  to  another.  An  isolated  sense- 
experience  could  not  be  said  to  be  either  true  or 
false,  real  or  illusory.  It  would  be  true  that  it  was 
experienced,  and  that  is  all  that  could  be  said  about 
it.  But  since  our  experiences  are  not  thus  separated, 
but  have  a certain  order,  there  arises  what  we  may 
call  sensible  reality  and  illusion.  When  the  order 
between  two  facts  remains  the  same  “in  different 
times  and  places  and  in  the  experience  of  different 
men,”  we  call  these  facts  real.  If,  however,  our 
experience  cannot  be  repeated  by  ourselves  or  by 
other  men  when  the  same  conditions  (that  is,  con- 
nections) are  present,  it  is  unreal,  or  false.  It  is 
thus  “the  relation  of  phenomena  which  guarantees 
truth  of  fact  regarding  sensible  objects.”  Con- 
stancy, regularity,  justify  us  in  ascribing  reality  ; 
chaotic  change  and  lack  of  orderly  connection  are 
a sign  of  unreality.  Even  our  dreams  have  a 
reality  ; for  they  have  their  connections  and  place 
in  experience.  If  we  understood  their  connections 
we  should  even  be  able  to  explain  their  apparent 
lack  of  connection  with  the  rest  of  experience. 
Leibniz  thinks  that  both  the  Academicians  and 
Sceptics  and  their  opponents  erred  in  attempting 
to  find  greater  reality  in  sensible  things  than  that 
of  regular  phenomena.  Since  our  observations 
and  judgments  upon  sensible  phenomena  are  of 
such  a nature  that  we  can  predict  future  phenomena 
and  prepare  for  them,  we  have  all  the  reality  in 
them  that  can  be  had  or  asked  for.  Even  if  it  be 
granted  possible  (as  it  must  be  on  this  basis)  that, 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY.  175 


metaphysically  speaking,  sense-experience  is  only 
a connected  dream,  it  yet  has  a sufficient  reality  ; 
for  we  are  not  deceived  in  the  measures  taken 
with  reference  to  phenomena,  provided  that  we  act 
on  the  ground  of  their  observed  harmonies  and 

relations.  Thus  while  we  are  obliged  to  admit  that 

I 

'our  senses  inform  us  that  there  are  hard,  passive, 
extended,  indivisible  things,  not  perfectly  contin- 
uous and  not  intellectual  in  their  nature,  and  we 
know  on  metaphysical  grounds  that  this  information 
is  not  correct,  we  cannot  say  that  our  senses  deceive 
us,  for  sense  makes  no  statements  regarding  such 
matters.  It  is  our  reason  that  errs  if  it  takes  the 
information  that  the  senses  give  as  if  it  were  a 
declaration  of  reason  itself.  Sensible  things  have 
all  the  reality  necessary  for  this  range  of  experience, 
— practical , — such  regularity  of  co-existence  and  se- 
quence as  allows  us  to  act  without  being  led  astray. 

But  if  we  regard  sense-phenomena  not  merely  in 
their  connection  with  one  another,  but  in  their 
dependence  upon  the  absolute  realities,  we  have 
still  better  justification  for  their  comparative  reality. 
These  phenomena  are  consequences  of  necessary 
and  eternal  truths.  One  endowed  with  a perfect 
knowledge  of  such  truths  would  be  able  to  deduce, 
a priori , the  phenomena  from  them.  The  reality 
of  sensible  phenomena  thus  consists  not  merely  in 
their  connection  with  one  another,  but  in  the  fact 
that  they  are  connected  as  the  laws  of  the  intelli- 
gible world  require.  They  follow  not  only  rules  of 
co-existence  and  sequence  ; but  these  rules  may  be 


176 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


brought  under  general  laws  of  motion,  which  in  turn 
may  be  deduced  from  geometrical  principles.  These 
latter,  however,  are  a priori ; they  are  truths  which 
are  grounded  in  the  very  intelligence  of  God.  The 
sensible  has  its  basis  in  the  ideal.  To  state  the 
same  fact  in  another  way,  all  sensible  phenom- 
ena occur  in  time  and  space ; or  rather,  time 
and  space  are  the  orders,  the  relations,  of  phe- 
nomena occurring  and  existing.  But,  as  we  have 
just  seen,  time  and  space  are  ideal.  A relation,  as 
Leibniz  points  out,  being  neither  attribute  nor  ac- 
cident, cannot  be  in  the  things  which  it  relates,  as 
their  possession.  In  his  own  words,  it  cannot  be 
conceived  as  if  it  had  one  leg  in  one  object,  the 
other  leg  in  the  other.  A relation  is  not  a material 
bond,  running  through  or  cementing  objects ; it  is 
ideal,  existing  in  the  mind.  And  while  it  is  true 
that  space  and  time  are  the  relations  of  objects  and 
events,  it  is  also  true  that  if  all  objects  and  events 
were  annihilated,  space  and  time  would  continue 
to  have  their  ideal  existence  in  the  intelligence  of 
God  as  the  eternal  conditions  of  phenomena.  They 
thus  form  the  links  between  absolute  reality  and  the 
reality  of  sensible  existence.  The  principle  of  suf- 
ficient reason  forms  another  link.  It  may  be  re- 
called that  in  discussing  Leibniz’s  theory  of  volition 
we  found  that  the  will  of  God  in  relation  to  the 
sensible  world  is  always  determined  by  the  choice 
of  the  better  ; that  in  this  consists  the  controlling 
reason  and  regulative  principle  of  all  that  occurs 
and  exists.  Thus  for  every  fact  in  the  sensible 


MATERIAL  PHENOMENA  AND  THEIR  REALITY,  177 

world  there  is  connection  with  “metaphysical,”  or 
absolute,  reality,  not  only  through  the  medium  of 
the  intellectual  relations  of  time  and  space,  but 
through  the  dynamic  intermediary  of  the  divine  will 
acting  in  accordance  with  the  divine  reason.  Sen- 
sible facts  have,  then,  a reality,  but  a dependent 
one.  There  would  be  no  contradiction  involved  if 
they  were  not  what  they  actually  are. 

We  may  sum  up  the  matter  by  saying  that  the 
reality  of  sensible  phenomena  consists  in  the  con- 
stancy of  the  mutual  order  in  which  they  exist,  and 
in  the  dependence  of  this  order  upon  the  divine  In- 
telligence and  Will.  In  this  respect,  at  least, 
Leibniz  resembles  the  young  Irish  idealist,  Berkeley, 
who  only  seven  years  after  Leibniz  wrote  the  “New 
Essays”  composed  his  “Principles  of  Human 
Knowledge,”  urging  that  the  immediate  reality  of 
sense-phenomena  consists  in  their  “ steadiness, 
order,  and  coherence,”  “in  a constant  uniform 
working,”  and  that  this  “gives  us  a foresight 
which  enables  us  to  regulate  our  actions  for  the 
benefit  of  life.”  It  was  Berkeley  also  who  wrote 
that  their  ultimate  reality  consists  in  their  being 
ideas  of  a Divine  Spirit.  This  was  six  years 
before  the  death  of  Leibniz.  Yet  it  does  not 
appear  that  Berkeley  knew  of  Leibniz,  and  the  only 
allusion  to  Berkeley  which  I have  found  in  the 
writings  of  Leibniz  shows  that  Leibniz  knew  only  of 
that  caricature  of  his  views  which  has  alwa}rs  been 
current,  — that  Berkeley  was  one  who  denied  the 
existence  of  any  external  world.  What  he  writes 
12 


178 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


is  as  follows:  “As  for  him  in  Ireland  who  ques- 
tions the  reality  of  ‘ bodies,’  he  seems  neither  to 
offer  what  is  rational,  nor  sufficiently  to  explain  his 
own  ideas.  I suspect  that  he  is  one  of  those  men 
who  are  desirous  of  making  themselves  known 
through  paradoxes.” 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  179 


CHAPTER  IX. 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS. 


HE  fundamental  category  of  Locke,  as  of  all 


who  take  simply  a mechanical  view  of  ex- 
perience, is  that  of  substance.  He  had  good  reason 
to  be  surprised  when  the  Bishop  of  Worcester  ob- 
jected that  Locke  wished  “ to  discard  substance  out 
of  the  world.”  How  can  that  be  so,  Locke  asks, 
when  I say  that  “ our  idea  of  body  is  an  extended 
solid  substance,  and  our  idea  of  soul  is  of  a sub- 
stance that  thinks.”  And  he  adds,  “ Nay,  as  long 
as  there  is  any  simple  idea  or  sensible  quality  left, 
according  to  my  way  of  arguing,  substance  cannot 
be  discarded.”  Everything  that  really  exists,  is, 
according  to  Locke,  substance.  But  substance  to 
Locke,  as  again  to  all  who  interpret  the  universe 
after  sensible  categories,  is  unknowable.  For  such 
categories  allow  only  of  external  relations ; they 
admit  only  of  static  existence.  Substance,  in  this 
-way  of  looking  at  it,  must  be  distinct  from  its  qual- 
ities, and  must  be  simply  the  existing  substratum  in 
which  they  inhere. 

Locke’s  account  of  the  way  in  which  we  get  the 
idea,  and  of  its  nature,  is  as  follows  : “ All  the 
ideas  of  all  the  sensible  qualities  of  a cherry  come 


180 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


into  my  mind  by  sensation.  The  ideas  of  these 
qualities  and  actions,  or  powers,  are  perceived  by 
the  mind  to  be  by  themselves  inconsistent  with  ex- 
istence. They  cannot  subsist  of  themselves.  Hence 
the  mind  perceives  their  necessary  connection  with 
inherence,  or  with  being  supported.”  Correlative 
to  the  idea  of  being  supported  is,  of  course,  the 
idea  of  the  support.  But  this  idea  “ is  not  repre- 
sented to  the  mind  by  any  clear  and  distinct  idea ; 
the  obscure  and  vague,  indistinct  idea  of  thing  or 
something,  is  all  that  is  left..”  Or  yet  more  simply, 
“ Taking  notice  that  a certain  number  of  simple  ideas 
go  together,  and  not  imagining  how  these  simple 
ideas  can  subsist  by  themselves,  we  accustom  our- 
selves to  suppose  some  substratum  wherein  they  do 
subsist,  and  from  which  they  do  result.”  Hence 
the  only  idea  we  have  of  it  is  of  something  which 
underlies  known  qualities.  It  is  their  “ supposed, 
but  unknown,  support.” 

If  we  translate  these  expressions  into  the  ideas  of 
to-day,  we  see  that  they  are  equivalent  to  the  view 
of  the  world  which  is  given  us  by  scientific  catego- 
ries when  these  categories  are  regarded  not  merely 
as  scientific,  but  also  as  philosophic  ; that  is,  ca- 
pable of  interpreting  and  expressing  the  ultimate 
nature  of  experience.  This  modern  view  uses  the 
words  “ things-iu-themselves”  (or  absolute  realities) 
and  “ phenomena.”  It  says  that  we  know  nothing  of 
existence  as  it  is  in  itself,  but  only  of  its  phenom- 
ena. Mind,  matter,  objects,  are  all  substances,  all 
equally  substances,  and  all  have  their  unknown 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  181 


essence  and  their  phenomenal  appearance.  Such 
a distinction  between  the  known  and  the  unknown 
can  rest,  it  is  evident,  only  upon  a separation  be* 
tween  reality  and  phenomena  similar  to  that  which 
Locke  makes  between  substance  and  qualities.  In 
knowing  the  latter,  we  know  nothing  of  the  former. 
Although  the  latter  are  called  “ phenomena,”  they  do 
not  really  manifest  the  substantial  reality  ; they  con- 
ceal it.  This  absolute  distinction  between  substance 
and  quality,  between  reality  and  phenomenon,  rests, 
in  turn,  upon  the  hypothesis  that  reality  is  mere 
existence  ; that  is,  it  is  something  which  is,  and  that 
is  all.  It  is  a substratum  ; it  lies  under,  in  a passive 
way,  qualities  ; it  is  (literally)  substance  ; it  simply 
stands,  inactively,  under  phenomena.  It  may,  by 
possibility,  have  actions  ; but  it  has  them.  Activi- 
ties are  qualities  which,  like  all  qualities,  are  in 
external  relation  to  the  substance.  Being,  in  other 
words,  is  the  primary  notion,  and  “being”  means 
something  essentially  passive  and  merely  enduring, 
accidentally  and  secondarily  something  acting. 
Here,  as  elsewhere,  Locke  is  the  father  of  the 
mechanical  philosophy  of  to-day. 

We  have  already  learned  how  completely  Leibniz 
reverses  this  way  of  regarding  reality.  According 
to  Locke,  reality  essentially  is;  and  in  its  being 
there  is  no  ground  of  revelation  of  itself.  It  then 
acts  ; but  these  actions,  “ powers,  or  qualities,”  since 
not  flowing  from  the  very  being  of  substance,  give  no 
glimpse  into  its  true  nature.  According  to  Leibniz, 
reality  acts,  and  therefore  is.  Its  being  is  conditioned 


182 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


upon  its  activity.  It  is  not  first  there,  and  secondly 
acts  ; but  its  “ being  there  ” is  its  activity.  Since  its 
very  substance  is  activity,  it  is  impossible  that  it 
should  not  manifest  its  true  nature.  Its  every  activity 
is  a revelation  of  itself.  It  cannot  hide  itself  as  a 
passive  subsistence  behind  qualities  or  phenomena. 
It  must  break  forth  into  them.  On  the  other  hand, 
since  the  qualities  are  not  something  which  merely 
inhere  in  an  underlying  support,  but  are  the  various 
forms  or  modes  of  the  activity  which  constitutes 
reality,  they  necessarily  reveal  it.  They  are  its 
revelations.  There  is  here  no  need  to  dwell  further 
on  the  original  dynamic  nature  of  substance  ; what 
was  said  in  the  way  of  general  exposition  suffices. 
It  is  only  in  its  relations  to  Locke’s  view  as  just 
laid  down  that  it  now  concerns  us. 

In  the  first  place,  Leibniz  points  out  that  quali- 
ties are  “ abstract,”  while  substance  is  “ concrete.” 
The  qualities,  from  the  very  fact  that  they  have  no 
.s.elf-subsistence,  are  only  relations,  while  the  sub- 
stance, as  that  of  which  they  are  qualities,  or  from 
which  they  are  abstractions,  is  concrete.  It  is,  Leib- 
niz says,  to  invert  the  true  order  to  take  qualities  or 
abstract  terms  as  the  best  known  and  most  easily 
comprehended,  and  “ concretes  ” as  unknown,  and 
as  having  the  most  difficulty  about  them.  . “ It  is 
abstractions  which  give  birth  to  almost  all  our  diffi- 
culties,” and  Locke’s  error  here  is  that  he  begins 
with  abstractions,  and  takes  them  to  be  most  open 
to  intelligence.  Locke’s  second  error  is  separating 
so  completely  substance  and  attribute.  “After 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  183 


having  distinguished,”  says  Leibniz,  “ two  things 
in  substance,  the  attributes  or  predicates,  and  the 
common  subject  of  these  predicates,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  we  cannot  conceive  anything  in 
particular  in  the  subject.  This  result  is  necessary, 
since  we  have  separated  all  the  attributes  in  which 
there  is  anything  definite  to  be  conceived.  Hence 
to  demand  anything  more  than  a mere  unknown 
somewhat  in  the  subject,  is  to  contradict  the  suppo- 
sition which  was  made  in  making  the  abstraction 
and  in  conceiving  separately  the  subject  and  its  quali- 
ties or  accidents.”  We  are  indeed  ignorant  of  a 
subject  from  which  abstraction  has  been  made  of  all 
defining  and  characteristic  qualities  ; “ but  this  igno- 
rance results  from  our  demanding  a sort  of  knowl- 
edge of  which  the  object  does  n5t  permit.”  In  short, 
it  is  a credit  to  our  knowledge,  not  an  aspersion 
upon  it,  that  we  cannot  know  that  which  is  thor- 
oughly unreal,  — a substance  deprived  of  all  attri- 
butes. This  is,  indeed,  a remark  which  is  applicable 
to  the  supposed  unknowableness  of  pure  Being,  or 
Absolute  Being,  when  it  is  defined  as  the  absence  of 
all  relations  (as  is  done,  for  example,  by  Mr.  Spencer 
to-day) . 

Closely  connected  with  the  notion  of  -substance 
are  the  categories  of  identity  and  diversity.  These 
relations  are  of  course  to  Locke  thoroughly  ex- 
ternal. It  is  “relation  of  time  and  place  which 
always  determines  identity.”  “ That  that  had  one 
beginning  is  the  same  thing  ; and  that  which  had  a 
different  beginning  in  time  and  place  from  that,  is 


184: 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


not  the  same,  but  diverse.”  It  is  therefore  easy 
to  discover  the  principle  of  individuation.  It  “is 
existence  itself,  which  determines  a being  of  any 
sort  to  a particular  time  and  place,  incommunicable 
to  two  beings  of  the  same  kind.”  He  applies  this 
notion  to  organic  being,  including  man,  and  to  the 
personal  identity  of  man.  The  identity  of  an  organ- 
ism, vegetable,  brute,  or  human,  is  its  continuous 
organization;  “ it  is  the  participation  of  the  same 
continued  life,  by  constantly  fleeting  particles  of 
matter  in  succession  vitally  united  to  the  same  or- 
ganized body.”  Personal  identity  is  constituted  by 
a similar  continuity  of  cousciousness.  “ It  being 
the  same  consciousness  that  makes  a man  be  him- 
self to  himself,  personal  identity  depends  on  that 
only.”  It  “ consists  not  in  the  identity  of  sub- 
stance, but  in  the  identity  of  consciousness.”  It 
will  be  noticed  that  Locke  uses  the  notion  of  identity 
which  he  has  already  established  to  explain  organic 
and  personal  unity.  It  is  the  “ same  continued 
life,”  “ identity  of  consciousness,”  that  constitute 
them.  We  are,  hence,  introduced  to  no  new  prin- 
ciple. Identity  is  even  in  personality  a matter  of 
temporal  and  spatial  relations. 

In  the  general  account  of  the  system  of  Leibniz 
it  was  pointed  out  that  it  is  characteristic  of  his 
thought  to  regard  identity  and  distinction  as  internal 
principles,  and  as  necessarily  implied  in  each  other. 
We  need  not  go  over  that  ground  again,  but  simply 
see  how  he  states  his  position  with  reference  to  what 
is  quoted  from  Locke.  These  are  his  words  : “ Be- 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  185 


sides  the  difference  of  place  and  time  there  is  always 
necessary  an  internal  principle  [or  law]  of  distinc- 
tion, so  that  while  there  may  he  several  things  of  the 
same  species,  there  are  no  two  things  exactly  alike. 
Thus,  although  time  and  place  (that  is,  relations  to 
the  external)  aid  us  in  distinguishing  things,  things 
do  not  cease  to  be  distinguished  in  themselves. 
The  essence  of  identity  and  diversity  does  not  con- 
sist in  time  and  place,  although  it  is  true  that  di- 
versity of  things  is  accompanied  with  that  of  time 
and  place,  since  they  carry  along  with  them  different 
impressions  upon  the  thing  ; ” that  is,  they  expose  the 
thing  to  different  surroundings.  But  in  reality  “it 
is  things  which  diversify  times  and  places  from  one 
another,  for  in  themselves  these  are  perfectly  similar, 
not  being  substances  or  complete  realities.7’ 

The  principle  of  individuation  follows,  of  course, 
from  this.  “ If  two  individuals  were  perfectly 
similar  and  equal,  that  is,  indistinguishable  in 
themselves,  there  would  be  no  principle  of  individ- 
uation ; there  would  not  be  two  individuals.”  Thus 
Leibniz  states  his  important  principle  of  the  “ iden- 
tity of  indiscernibles,”  the  principle  that  where  there 
is  not  some  internal  differentiating  principle  which 
specifies  the  existence  in  this  or  that  definite  way, 
there  is  no  individual.  Leibniz  here  states,  in  effect, 
the  principle  of  organic  unity,  the  notion  that  con- 
crete unity  is  a unity  of  differences,  not  from  them. 
It  is  the  principle  which  allows  him  at  once  to  accept 
and  transform  the  thought  of  Spinoza  that  all  quali- 
fication or  determination  is  negation.  Spinoza,  in 


186 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


spite  of  his  intellectual  greatness,  conceived  of  dis- 
tinction or  determination  as  external,  and  hence  as 
external  negation.  But  since  ultimate  reality  ad- 
mits of  no  external  negation,  it  must  be  without  dis- 
tinction, an  all-inclusive  one.  But  to  Leibniz  the 
negation  is  internal ; it  is  determination  of  its  own 
being  into  the  greatest  possible  riches.  “Things' 
that  are  conceived  as  absolutely  uniform  and  con- 
taining no  variety  are  pure  abstractions.”  “ Things 
indistinguishable  in  themselves,  and  capable  of  being 
distinguished  only  by  external  characteristics  without 
internal  foundation,  are  contrary  to  the  most  impor- 
tant principles  of  reason.  The  truth  is  that  every 
being  is  capable  of  change  [or  differentiation],  a.ud 
is  itself  actually  changed  in  such  a way  that  in 
itself  it  differs  from  every  other.” 

As  to  organic  bodies,  so  far  as  they  are  bodies,  or 
corporeal,  they  are  one  and  identical  only  in  appear- 
ance. “They  are  not  the  same  an  instant.  . . . 
Bodies  are  in  constant  flux.”  “They  are  like  a river 
which  is  always  changing  its  water,  or  like  the  ship 
of  Theseus  which  the  Athenians  are  constantly  re- 
pairing.” Such  unity  as  they  really  possess  is  like 
all  unity j — ideal  or  spiritual.  “They  remain  the 
same  individual  by  virtue  of  that  same  soul  or  spirit 
which  constitutes  the  ‘ Ego  ’ in  those  individuals  who 
think.”  “ Except  for  the  soul,  there  is  neither  the 
same  life  nor  any  vital  union.”  As  to  personal 
identity,  Leibniz  distinguishes  between  “ physical 
or  real”  identity  and  “moral.”  In  neither  case, 
however,  is  it  a unity  which  excludes  plurality,  an 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  187 


identity  which  does  not  comprehend  diversity. 
“Every  spirit  has,”  he  says,  “traces  of  all  the 
impressions  which  it  has  ever  experienced,  and  even 
presentiments  of  all  that  ever  will  happen.  But 
these  feelings  are  generally  too  minute  to  be  distin- 
guished and  brought  into  consciousness,  though  they 
may  be  sometime  developed.  This  continuity  and 
connection  of  perceptions  makes  up  the  real  identity 
of  the  individual,  while  apperceptions  (that  which 
is  consciously  apprehended  of  past  experiences) 
constitute  the  moral  identity  and  make  manifest 
the  real  identity.”  We  have  had  occasion  before  to 
allude  to  the  part  played  in  the  Leibnizian  philos- 
ophy by  “ minute  perceptions  ” or  “unconscious 
ideas.”  Of  them  he  says,  relative  to  the  present 
point,  that  “insensible  perceptions  mark  and  even 
constitute  the  sameness  of  the  individual,  which  is 
characterized  by  the  residua  preserved  from  its  pre- 
ceding states,  as  they  form  its  connection  with  its 
present  state.”  If  these  connections  are  “ apper- 
ceived  ” or  brought  into  distinct  consciousness, 
there  is  moral  identity  as  well.  As  he  expresses 
it  in  one  place:  “The  self  ( soi ) is  real  and  phys- 
ical identity  ; the  appearance  of  self,  accompanied 
with  truth,  is  personal  identity.”  But  the  essential 
point  in  either  case  is  that  the  identity  is  not  that 
of  a substance  underlying  modifications,  nor  of  a 
consciousness  which  merely  accompanies  all  mental 
states,  but  is  the  connection,  the  active  continuity, 
or  — in  Kant’s  word  — the  synthesis,  of  all  particular 
forms  of  the  mental  life.  The  self  is  not  the  most 


138 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


abstract  unity  of  experience,  it  is  the  most  organic. 
What  Leibniz  says  of  his  monads  generally  is  espe- 
cially true  of  the  higher  monads,  — human  souls. 
“ They  vary,  up  to  infinity  itself,  with  the  greatest 
abundance,  order,  and  beauty  imaginable.”  Not  a 
mathematical  point,  but  life,  is  the  type  of  Leibniz’s 
conception  of  identity. 

In  the  order  in  which  Locke  takes  up  his  topics 
(and  in  which  Leibniz  follows  him)  we  have  omitted 
one  subject,  which,  however,  may  find  its  natural 
place  in  the  present  connection,  — the  subject  of 
infinity.  In  Locke’s  conception,  the  infinite  is  only 
a ceaseless  extension  or  multiplication  of  the  finite. 
He  considers  the  topic  immediately  after  the  discus- 
sions of  space,  time,  and  number,  and  with  good 
logic  from  his  standpoint;  for  “finite  and  infinite,” 
he  says,  are  “ looked  upon  by  the  mind  as  the  modes 
of  quantity , and  are  attributed,  in  their  first  desig- 
nation, only  to  those  things  which  have  parts  and 
are  capable  of  increase  and  diminution.”  This  is 
true  even  of  the  application  of  the  term  “ infinite  ” to 
God,  so  far  as  concerns  the  attributes  of  duration 
and  ubiquity  ; and  as  applied  to  his  other  attributes 
the  term  is  figurative,  signifying  that  they  are  in- 
comprehensible and  inexhaustible.  Such  being  the 
idea  of  the  infinite,  it  is  attained  as  follows  : There 
is  no  difficulty,  says  Locke,  as  to  the  way  in 
which  we  come  by  the  idea  of  the  finite.  Every 
obvious  portion  of  extension  and  period  of  succes- 
sion which  affects  us  is  bounded.  If  we  take  one 
of  these  periods  or  portions,  we  find  that  we  can 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  189 


double  it,  or  “ otherwise  multiply  it,”  as  often  as  we 
wish,  and  that  there  is  no  reason  to  stop,  nor  are  we 
one  jot  nearer  the  end  at  any  point  of  the  multi- 
plication than  when  we  set  out.  “ By  repeating  as 
often  as  we  will  any  idea  of  space,  we  get  the  idea 
of  infinity ; by  being  able  to  repeat  the  idea  of  any 
length  of  duration,  we  come  by  the  idea  of  eter- 
nity.” There  is  a difference,  then,  between  the 
ideas  of  the  infinity  of  space,  time,  and  number, 
and  of  an  infinite  space,  time,  and  number.  The 
former  idea  we  have ; it  is  the  idea  that  we  can 
continue  without  end  the  process  of  multiplication 
or  progression.  The  latter  we  have  not ; it  would 
be  the  idea  of  having  completed  the  infinite  multi- 
plication, it  would  be  the  result  of  the  never-ending 
progression.  And  this  is  evidently  a contradiction 
in  terms.  To  sum  the  matter  up,  the  term  “ infinite  ” 
always  relates  to  the  notion  of  quantity.  Quantity 
is  that  which  is  essentially  capable  of  increase  or 
decrease.  There  is  then  an  infinity  of  quantity ; 
there  is  no  quantity  which  is  the  absolute  limit  to 
quantity.  Such  a quantity  would  be  incapable  of 
increase,  and  hence  contradictory  to  quantity.  But 
an  actual  infinite  quantity  (whether  of  space,  time, 
or  number)  would  be  one  than  which  there  could 
be  no  greater ; and  hence  the  impossibility  of  our 
having  a positive  idea  of  an  actual  or  completed 
infinite. 

Leibniz’s  reply  consists  simply  in  carrying  out 
this  same  thought  somewhat  further.  It  is  granted 
that  the  idea  of  an  infinite  quantity  of  any  kind  is 


190 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


absurd  and  self-contradictory.  But  what  does  this 
prove,  except  that  the  notions  of  quantity  and  in- 
finity are  incompatible  with  each  other,  that  they 
contradict  each  other?  Hence,  instead  of  the  infi- 
nite being  a mode  of  quantity,  it  must  be  conceived 
as  essentially  distinct  from  and  even  opposed  to 
quantity.  Locke’s  argument  is  virtually  a reductio 
ad  absurdum  of  the  notion  that  the  infinite  is  capa- 
ble of  parts.  In  the  few  pages  of  comment  which 
Leibniz  in  1696  wrote  upon  Locke,  this  topic  of  the 
infinite  is  one  of  the  few  touched  upon.  His  words 
upon  that  occasion  were  as  follows  : “I  agree  with 
Mr.  Locke  that,  properly  speaking,  there  is  no  space, 
time,  nor  number  which  is  infinite  ; and  that  it  is 
only  true  that  however  great  be  a space,  a time,  or  a 
number,  there  is  always  another  which  is  still  greater, 
and  this  without  end  ; and  that,  therefore , the  infi- 
nite is  not  to  be  found  in  a whole  made  up  of  parts. 
But  it  does  not  cease  to  exist : it  is  found  in  the 
absolute,  which  is  without  parts,  and  of  which  com- 
pound things  [phenomena  in  space  and  time,  or 
facts  which  may  be  numbered]  are  only  limitations. 
The  positive  infinite  being  nothing  else  than  the 
absolute,  it  may  be  said  that  there  is,  in  this  sense, 
a positive  idea  of  the  infinite,  and  that  it  is  anterior 
to  the  idea  of  the  finite.”  In  other  words,  while 
the  infinite  is  to  Locke  an  indefinite  extension 
of  the  finite,  which  alone  is  positively  “given,” 
to  Leibniz  the  infinite  is  the  positive  and  real,  and 
the  finite  is  only  in  and  by  it.  The  finite  is  the 
negative. 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  191 

Leibniz  amplifies  this  thought  upon  other  occa- 
sions, as  in  his  present  more  extended  examination. 
“There  is  no  infinite  number,  line,  or  quantity,  if 
they  are  taken  as  true  wholes.”  “ We  deceive  our- 
selves in  trying  to  imagine  an  absolute  space  which 
should  be  an  infinite  whole,  composed  of  parts. 
H’here  is  none  such.  It  is  an  idea  which  implies 
contradiction  ; and  all  these  ‘ infinites  ’ and  1 infini- 
tesimals ’ are  of  use  only  in  geometry,  as  imaginary 
roots  are  in  algebra.”  That  which  is  ordinarily 
called  the  infinite,  that  is,  the  quantitative  infinite, 
is  in  reality  only  the  indefinite.  “We  involve 
ourselves  in  difficulty  when  we  talk  about  a series 
of  numbers  extending  to  infinity ; we  imagine  a last 
term,  an  infinite  number,  or  one  infinitely  little.  But 
these  are  only  fictions.  All  number  is  finite  and 
assignable  [that  is,  of  a certain  definite  quantity]  ; 
every  line  is  the  same.  ‘Infinites’  and  ‘infinites- 
imals ’ signify  only  quantities  which  can  be  taken 
as  large  or  as  small  as  one  wishes,  simply  for  the 
purpose  of  showing  that  there  is  no  error  which  can 
be  assigned.  Or  we  are  to  understand  by  the  in- 
finitely little,  the  state  of  vanishing  or  commencing 
of  a quantum  after  the  analogy  of  a quantum  already 
formed.”  On  the  other  hand,  the  true  infinite  “ is 
not  an  aggregate,  nor  a whole  of  parts  ; it  is  not 
clothed  with  magnitude,  nor  does  it  consist  in  num- 
ber. . . . The  Absolute  alone,  the  indivisible  infi- 
nite, has  true  unity,  — I mean  God.”  And  as  he 
sums  up  the  matter:  “The  infinite,  consisting  of 
parts,  is  neither  one  nor  a whole ; it  cannot  be 


192 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


brought  under  any  notion  of  the  mind  except  that 
of  quantity.  Only  the  infinite  without  parts  is 
one,  and  this  is  not  a whole  [of  parts]  : this  infi- 
nite is  God.” 

It  cannot  he  admitted,  however,  that  Locke  has 
given  a correct  account  of  the  origin  of  the  notion 
of  the  quantitative  infinite,  or  — to  speak  philosophi- 
cally, and  not  after  the  use  of  terms  convenient  in 
mathematics  — the  indefinite.  According  to  him,  its 
origin  is  the  mere  empirical  repeating  of  a sensuous 
datum  of  time  and  space.  According  to  Leibniz, 
this  repetition,  however  long  continued,  can  give 
no  idea  beyond  itself  ; it  can  never  generate  the 
idea  that  the  process  of  repetition  may  be  continued 
without  a limit.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  he  objects  that 
experience  cannot  guarantee  notions  beyond  the 
limits  of  experience.  Locke’s  process  of  repetition 
could  tell  us  that  a number  had  been  extended  up 
to  a given  point ; not  that  it  could  be  extended  with- 
out limit.  The  source  of  this  latter  idea  must  be 
found,  therefore,  where  we  find  the  origin  of  all 
extra-empirical  notions,  — in  reason.  “ Its  origin  is 
the  same  as  that  of  universal  and  necessary  truths.” 
It  is  not  the  empirical  process  of  multiplying,  but  the 
fact  that  the  same  reason  for  multiplying  always  ex- 
ists, that  originates  and  guarantees  the  idea.  “Take 
a straight  line  and  prolong  it  in  such  a way  that  it  is 
double  the  first.  It  is  evident  that  the  second,  being 
perfectly  similar  to  the  first,  can  be  itself  doubled ; 
and  we  have  a third,  which  in  turn  is  similar  to  the 
preceding.  The  same  reason  always  being  present, 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  193 


it  is  not  possible  that  the  process  should  ever  be 
brought  to  a stop.  Thus  the  line  can  be  prolonged 
‘ to  infinity.’  Therefore  the  idea  of  ‘infinity’  comes 
from  the  consideration  of  the  identity  of  relation  or 
of  reason.” 

The  considerations  which  we  have  grouped  to- 
gether in  this  chapter  serve  to  show  the  fundamental 
philosophical  difference  between  Locke  and  Leibniz. 
Although,  taken  in  detail,  they  are  self-explanatory, 
a few  words  may  be  permitted  upon  their  unity  and 
ultimate  bearing.  It  is  characteristic  of  Locke  that 
he  uses  the  same  principle  of  explanation  with  ref- 
erence to  the  conceptions  of  substance,  identity 
and  diversity,  and  infinity,  and  that  this  principle 
is  that  of  spatial  and  temporal  relation.  Infinity 
is  conceived  as  quantitative,  as  the  successive  ad- 
dition of  times  and  spaces  ; identity  and  diversity 
are  oneness  and  difference  of  existence  as  deter- 
mined by  space  and  time  ; substance  is  the  under- 
lying static  substratum  of  qualities,  and,  as  such, 
is  considered  after  the  analogy  of  things  existing  in 
space  and  through  time.  It  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  Locke  believed  as  thoroughly  as  Leibniz  in  the 
substantial  existence  of  the  world,  of  the  human 
soul,  and  of  God  ; in  the  objective  continuity  of 
the  world,  and  the  personal  identity  of  man,  and  in 
the  true  infinity  of  God.  Whatever  negative  or  scep- 
tical inferences  may  have  afterwards  been  drawn 
from  Locke’s  premises  were  neither  drawn  nor 
dreamed  of  by  him.  His  purpose  was  in  essence 
one  with  that  of  Leibniz. 

13 


194 


LEIBNIZ  S NEW  ESSAYS. 


But  the  contention  of  Leibniz  is  that  when  sub- 
stance, identity,  and  infinity  are  conceived  of  by  me- 
chanical  categories,  or  measured  by  the  sensible 
standard  of  space  and  time,  they  lose  their  meaning 
and  their  validity.  According  to  him  such  notions 
are  spiritual  in  their  nature,  and  to  be  spiritually 
conceived  of.  “ Spiritual,”  however,  does  not  mean 
opposed  to  the  sensible  ; it  does  not  mean  something 
to  be  known  by  a peculiar  kind  of  intuition  unlike 
our  knowledge  of  anything  else.  It  means  the 
active  and  organic  basis  of  the  sensible,  its  signifi- 
cance and  ideal  purpose.  It  is  known  by  knowing 
the  sensible  or  mechanical  as  it  really  is  ; that  is,  as 
it  is  completely,  as  a concretum , in  Leibniz’s  phrase. 
Leibniz  saw  clearly  that  to  make  the  infinite  some- 
thing at  one  end  of  the  finite,  as  its  mere  exter- 
nal limit,  or  something  miraculously  intercalated 
into  the  finite,  was  to  deprive  it  of  meaning,  and, 
by  making  it  unknowable,  to  open  the  way  for  its 
denial.  To  make  identity  consist  in  the  removal  of 
all  diversity  (as  must  be  done  if  it  be  thought  after 
the  manner  of  external  relations),  is  to  reduce  it 
to  nothing,  — as  Hume,  indeed,  afterwards  showed. 
Substance,  which  is  merely  a support  behind  quali- 
ties, is  unknowable,  and  hence  unverifiable.  While, 
then,  the  aim  of  both  Locke  and  Leibniz  as  regards 
these  categories  was  the  same,  Leibniz  saw  what 
Locke  did  not,  — that  to  interpret  them  after  the 
manner  of  existence  in  space  and  time,  to  regard 
them  (in  Leibniz’s  terminology)  as  mathematical, 
and  not  as  metaphysical,  is  to  defeat  that  aim.  The 


SOME  FUNDAMENTAL  CONCEPTIONS.  195 


sole  way  to  justify  them,  and  iu  justifying  them  to 
give  relative  validity  to  the  sensible  and  phenom- 
enal, is  to  demonstrate  their  spiritual  and  dynamic 
nature,  to  show  them  as  conditioning  space  and 
time,  and  not  as  conditioned  by  them. 


196 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


IIE  third  book  of  Locke’s  Essay  is  upon  words 


and  language  ; and  in  the  order  of  treatment 
this  would  be  the  next  topic  for  discussion.  But 
much  of  what  is  said  in  this  connection  both  by 
Locke  and  by  Leibniz  is  philological,  rhetorical,  and 
grammatical  in  character,  and  although  not  with- 
out interest  in  itself,  is  yet  without  any  especial 
bearing  upon  the  philosophical  points  in  controversy. 
The  only  topics  in  this  book  demanding  our  atten- 
tion are  general  and  particular  terms ; but  these 
fall  most  naturally  into  the  discussion  of  general 
and  particular  knowledge.  In  fact,  it  is  not  the 
terms  which  Locke  actually  discusses,  but  the  ideas 
for  which  the  terms  stand.  We  pass  on  accordingly, 
without  further  ceremony,  to  the  fourth  book,  which 
is  concerning  knowledge  in  general.  Locke  defines 
knowledge  as  “nothing  but  the  perception  of  the 
connection  and  agreement,  or  disagreement  and  re- 
pugnancy, of  any  of  our  ideas.”  These  agreements 
or  disagreements  may  be  reduced  to  four  sorts,  — 
Identity,  or  diversity;  Relation;  Co-existence,  or 
necessary  connection  ; Real  existence.  The  state- 
ment of  identity  and  diversity  is  implied  in  all 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  197 


knowledge  whatsoever.  By  them  “the  mind  clearly 
and  infallibly  perceives  each  idea  to  agree  with  itself 
and  be  what  it  is,  and  all  distinct  ideas  to  disagree  ; 
i.  e.,  the  one  not  to  be  the  other.”  The  agreement  of 
relation  is  such  knowledge  as  the  mind  derives  from 
the  comparison  of  its  ideas.  It  includes  mathemat- 
ical knowledge.  The  connection  of  co-existence 
“ belongs  particularly  to  substances.”  Locke’s  ex- 
ample is  that  “ gold  is  fixed,”  — by  which  we  under- 
stand that  the  idea  of  fixedness  goes  along  with  that 
group  of  ideas  which  we  call  gold.  All  statements 
of  fact  coming  under  the  natural  sciences  would  fall 
into  this  class.  The  fourth  sort  is  “ that  of  actual 
and  real  existence  agreeing  to  any  idea.” 

Leibniz’s  criticism  upon  these  statements  of 
Locke  is  brief  and  to  the  point.  He  admits  Locke’s 
definition  of  knowledge,  qualifying  it,  however,  by 
the  statement  that  in  much  of  our  knowledge,  per- 
haps in  all  that  is  merely  empirical,  we  do  not  know 
the  reason  and  connection  of  things  and  hence  can- 
not be  said  to  perceive  the  agreement  or  disagree- 
ment of  ideas,  but  only  to  feel  it  confusedly.  His 
most  important  remark,  however,  is  to  the  effect 
that  relation  is  not  a special  kind  of  knowledge,  but 
that  all  Locke’s  four  kinds  are  varieties  of  relation. 
Locke’s  “ connection”  of  ideas  which  makes  knowl- 
edge is  nothing  but  relation.  And  there  are  two 
kinds  of  relation,  — those  of  “ comparison  ” and  of 
“ concourse.”  That  of  comparison  states  the  iden- 
tity or  distinction  of  ideas,  either  in  whole  or  in  part. 
That  of  concourse  contains  Locke’s  two  classes  of 


198 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


co-existence  and  existence.  “ When  we  say  that  a 
thing  really  exists,  this  existence  is  the  predicate, 
— that  is  to  say,  a notion  connected  with  the  idea 
which  is  the  subject;  and  there  is  connection  be- 
tween these  two  notions.  The  existence  of  an 
object  of  an  idea  may  be  considered  as  the  con- 
course of  this  object  with  me.  Hence  comparison, 
which  marks  identity  or  diversity,  and  concourse  of 
an  object  with  me  (or  with  the  ego)  are  the  only 
forms  of  knowledge.” 

Leibniz  leaves  the  matter  here ; but  he  only 
needed  to  develop  what  is  contained  in  this  state- 
ment to  anticipate  Berkeley  and  Kant  in  some  of 
the  most  important  of  their  discoveries.  The  con- 
tradiction which  lies  concealed  in  Locke’s  account  is 
between  his  definition  of  knowledge  in  general,  and 
knowledge  of  real  existence  in  particular.  One 
is  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas;  the 
other  is  the  agreement  of  an  idea  with  an  object. 
Berkeley’s  work,  in  its  simplest  form,  was  to  re- 
move this  inconsistency.  He  saw  clearly  that  the 
“object”  was  an  intruder  here.  If  knowledge 
lies  in  the  connection  of  ideas , it  is  impossible  to 
get  outside  the  ideas  to  find  an  object  with  which 
they  agree.  Either  that  object  is  entirely  unknown, 
or  it  is  an  idea.  It  is  impossible,  therefore,  to  find 
the  knowledge  of  reality  in  the  comparison  of  an 
idea  with  an  object.  It  must  be  in  some  property 
of  the  ideas  themselves. 

Kant  developed  more  fully  the  nature  of  this 
property,  which  constitutes  the  “ objectivity  ” of 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  199 


our  ideas.  It  is  their  connection  with  one  another 
according  to  certain  necessary  forms  of  perception 
and  rules  of  conception.  In  other  words,  the  reality 
of  ideas  lies  in  their  being  connected  by  the  neces- 
sary and  hence  universal  relations  of  synthetic 
intelligence,  or,  as  Kant  often  states  it,  in  their 
agreement  with  the  conditions  of  self-consciousness. 
It  is  not,  I believe,  unduly  stretching  either  the  letter 
or  the  spirit  of  Leibniz  to  find  in  that  “ concourse  of 
the  object  with  the  ego  ” which  makes  its  reality,  the 
analogue  of  this  doctrine  of  Kant ; it  is  at  all  events 
the  recognition  of  the  fact  that  reality  is  not  to 
be  found  in  the  relating  of  ideas  to  unknown 
things,  but  in  their  relation  to  self-conscious  in- 
telligence. The  points  of  similarity  between  Kant 
and  Leibniz  do  not  end  here.  Leibniz’s  two  re- 
lations of  “comparison”  and  “concourse”  are 
certainly  the  congeners  of  Kant’s  “analytic”  and 
“synthetic”  judgments.  But  Leibniz,  as  we  shall 
see  hereafter,  trusts  too  thoroughly  to  the  merely 
formal  relations  of  identity  and  contradiction  to 
permit  him  such  a development  of  these  two  kinds 
of  relation  as  renders  Kant’s  treatment  of  them 
epoch-making. 

The  discussion  then  advances  to  the  subject  of 
degrees  of  knowledge,  of  which  Locke  recognizes 
three,  — intuitive,  demonstrative,  and  sensitive.  In- 
tuitive knowledge  is  immediate  knowledge, — rec- 
ognition of  likeness  or  difference  without  the 
intervention  of  a third  idea ; it  is  the  most 
certain  and  clear  of  all  knowledge.  In  clemonstra- 


200 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


tire  knowledge  the  agreement  or  disagreement 
cannot  be  perceived  directly,  because  the  ideas  can- 
not be  put  together  so  as  to  show  it.  Hence  the 
mind  has  recourse  to  intermediaries.  “And  this 
is  what  we  call  reasoning.”  Demonstrative  rests 
on  intuitive  knowledge,  because  each  intermediate 
idea  used  must  lie  immediately  perceived  to  be  like 
or  unlike  its  neighboring  idea,  or  it  would  itself 
need  intermediates  for  its  proof.  Besides  these  two 
degrees  of  knowledge  there  is  “ another  perception 
of  the  mind  employed  about  the  particular  existence 
of  finite  things  without  us,  which,  going  beyond 
bare  probability,  and  yet  not  reaching  perfectly  to 
either  of  the  foregoing  degrees  of  certainty,  passes 
under  the  name  of  knowledge.” 

Leibniz’s  comments  are  again  brief.  The  prim- 
itive truths  which  are  known  by  intuition  are  to  be 
divided  into  two  classes, — truths  of  reason  and  of 
fact.  The  primitive  truths  of  reason  are  necessary, 
and  may  be  called  identical,  because  they  seem 
only  to  repeat  the  same  thing,  without  teaching  us 
anything.  A is  A.  A is  not  nou-A.  Such  prop- 
ositions are  not  frivolous  or  useless,  because  the 
conclusions  of  logic  are  demonstrated  by  means  of 
identical  propositions,  and  many  of  those  of  ge- 
ometry by  the  principle  of  contradiction.  All  the 
intuitive  truths  of  reason  may  be  said  to  be  made 
known  through  the  “ immediation  ” of  ideas.  The 
intuitive  truths  of  fact,  on  the  other  hand,  are  com 
tingent  and  are  made  known  through  the  “ immedi- 
ation” of  feeling.  In  this  latter  class  come  such 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  201 

truths  as  the  Cartesian,  “ I think,  therefore  I am.” 
Neither  class  can  be  proved  by  anything  more 
certain. 

Demonstration  is  defined  by  Leibniz  as  by  Locke. 
The  former  recognizes,  however,  two  sorts, — ana- 
lytic and  synthetic.  Synthesis  goes  from  the  simple 
to  the  complex.  There  are  many  cases,  however, 
where  this  is  not  applicable  ; where  it  would  be  a 
task  “ equal  to  drinking  up  the  sea  to  attempt  to 
make  all  the  necessary  combinations.  Here  the 
method  of  exclusions  should  be  employed,  cutting 
off  many  of  the  useless  combinations.”  If  this 
cannot  be  done,  then  it  is  analysis  which  gives  the 
clew  into  the  labyrinth.  He  is  also  of  the  opinion 
that  besides  demonstration,  giving  certainty,  there 
should  be  admitted  an  art  of  calculating  prob- 
abilities,— the  lack  of  which  is,  he  says,  a great 
defect  in  our  present  logic,  and  which  would  be 
more  useful  than  a large  part  of  our  demonstrative 
sciences.  As  to  sensitive  knowledge,  he  agrees 
with  Locke  that  there  is  such  a thing  as  real  knowl- 
edge of  objects  without  us,  and  that  this  variety 
'does  not  have. the  same  metaphysical  certainty  as 
the  other  two  ; but  he  disagrees  regarding  its  cri- 
terion. According  to  Locke,  the  criterion  is  simply 
the  greater  degree  of  vividness  and  force  that  sen- 
sations have  as  compared  with  imaginations,  and 
the  actual  pleasures  or  pains  which  accompany 
them.  Leibniz  points  out  that  this  criterion,  which 
in  reality  is  purely  emotional,  is  of  no  great  value, 
and  states  the  principle  of  the  reality  of  sensible 


202 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


phenomena  which  we  have  already  given,  repeating 
that  it  is  found  in  the  connection  of  phenomena,  and 
that  “ this  connection  is  verified  by  means  of  the 
truths  of  reason,  just  as  the  phenomena  of  optics 
are  explained  by  geometry.” 

The  discussion  regarding  “ primitive  truths,” 
axioms,  and  maxims,  as  well  as  the  distinction 
between  truths  of  fact  and  of  reason,  has  its  most 
important  bearing  in  Locke’s  next  chapter.  This 
chapter  has  for  its  title  the  “Extent  of  Human 
Knowledge,”  and  in  connection  with  the  sixth 
chapter,  upon  universal  propositions,  and  with  the 
seventh,  upon  axioms,  really  contains  the  gist  of 
the  treatment  of  knowledge.  It  is  here  also  that 
are  to  be  considered  chapters  three  and  six  of 
book  third,  having  respectively  as  their  titles, 
“Of  General  Terms,”  and  “Of  the  Names  of 
Substances.” 

To  understand  Locke’s  views  upon  the  extent 
and  limitations  of  our  knowledge,  it  is  necessary 
to  recur  to  his  theory  of  its  origin.  If  we  compare 
what  he  says  about  the  origin  of  ideas  from  sen- 
sations with  what  he  says  about  the  development 
of  general  knowledge  from  particular,  we  shall  find 
that  Locke  unconsciously  puts  side  by  side  two 
different,  and  even  contradictory,  theories  upon  tiiis 
point.  In  the  view  already  given  when  treating 
of  sensation,  knowledge  originates  from  the  com- 
bination, the  addition,  of  the  simple  ideas  furnished 
us  by  our  senses.  It  begins  with  the  simple,  the 
unrelated,  and  advances  to  the  complex.  But  ac- 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  203 

cording  to  the  doctrine  which  he  propounds  in 
treating  of  general  terms,  knowledge  begins  with 
the  individual,  which  is  already  qualified  by  definite 
relations,  and  hence  complex,  and  proceeds,  by 
abstracting  some  of  these  qualities,  towards  the 
simple.  Or,  in  Locke’s  own  language,  “ ideas  be- 
come general  by  separating  from  them  the  cir- 
cumstances of  time  and  place  and  any  other  ideas 
that  may  determine  them  to  this  and  that  particular 
existence.”  And,  still  more  definitely,  he  says 
that  general  ideas  are  framed  by  “leaving  out  of 
the  complex  idea  of  individuals  that  which  is  pe- 
culiar to  each,  and  retaining  only  what  is  common 
to  them  all.”  From  this  it  follows  that  “ general 
and  universal  belong  not  to  the  real  existence  of 
things,  but  are  the  inventions  and  creatures  of  the 
understanding.”  “ When  we  quit  particulars,  the 
generals  that  rest  are  only  creatures  of  our  own 
making.  . . . The  signification  they  have  is  nothing 
but  a relation  that  by  the  mind  of  man  is  added 
to  them.”  And  in  language  which  reminds  us  of 
Kant,  but  with  very  different  bearing,  he  says  that 
relations  are  the  workmanship  of  the  understanding. 
The  abstract  idea  of  what  is  common  to  all  the 
members  of  the  class  constitutes  “ nominal  es- 
sence.” This  nominal  essence,  not  being  a par- 
ticular existence  in  nature,  but  the  “ workmanship 
of  the  understanding,”  is  to  be  carefully  distin- 
guished from  the  real  essence,  “ which  is  the  being 
of  anything  whereby  it  is  what  it  is.”  This  real 
essence  is  evidently  equivalent  to  the  unknown 


204 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


“substance”  of  which  we  have  heard  before.  “It 
is  the  real,  internal,  and  unknown  constitution  of 
things.”  In  simple  or  unrelated  ideas  and  in  modes 
the  real  and  the  nominal  essence  is  the  same  ; and 
lienee  whatever  is  demonstrated  of  one  is  demon- 
strated of  the  other.  But  as  to  substance  it  is  differ- 
ent, the  one  being  natural,  the  other  artificial.  The 
nominal  essence  always  relates  to  sorts,  or  classes, 
and  is  a pattern  or  standard  by  which  we  classify 
objects.  In  the  individual  there  is  nothing  es- 
sential, in  this  sense.  “Particular  beings,  con- 
sidered barely  in  themselves,  will  be  found  to  have 
all  their  qualities  equally  essential  to  them,  or, 
which  is  more,  nothing  at  all.”  As  for  the  “ real 
essence  ” which  things  have,  “ we  only  suppose  its 
being  without  precisely  knowing  what  it  is.” 

Locke  here  presents  us  with  the  confusion  which, 
in  one  form  or  another,  is  always  found  in  empiri- 
cism, and  which  indeed  is  essential  to  it.  Locke, 
like  the  ordinary  empiricist,  has  no  doubt  of  the 
existence  of  real  things.  Ilis  starting-point  is  the 
existence  of  two  substances,  mind  and  matter ; 
while,  further,  there  is  a great  number  of  sub- 
stances of  each  kind.  Each  mind  and  every  sep- 
arate portion  of  matter  is  a distinct  substance. 
This  supposed  deliverance  of  common  sense  Locke 
never  called  into  question.  Working  on  this  line, 
all  knowledge  will  consist  in  abstraction  from  the 
ready-made  things  presented  to  us  in  perception, 
“ in  leaving  out  from  the  complex  idea  of  individ- 
uals” something  belonging  to  them.  But  on  the 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  205 


other  hand,  Locke  never  doubts  that  knowledge  be- 
gins with  sensation,  and  that,  therefore,  the  process 
of  knowledge  is  one  of  adding  simple,  unrelated 
elements.  The  two  theories  are  absolutely  opposed 
to  each  other,  and  yet  one  and  the  same  philosoph- 
ical inference  may  be  drawn  from  each ; namely, 

I that  only  the  particular  is  real,  and  that  the  uni- 
versal (or  relations)  is  an  artificial  product,  manu- 
factured in  one  case  by  abstraction  from  the  real 
individual,  in  the  other  by  compounding  the  real 
sensation. 

The  result  is,  that  when  he  comes  to  a discussion 
of  the  extent  of  knowledge,  he  admits  knowledge  of 
self,  of  God,  and  of  “ things,”  only  by  a denial  of 
his  very  definition  of  knowledge,  while  knowledge 
of  other  conceptions,  like  those  of  mathematics,  is 
not  knowledge  of  reality,  but  only  of  ideas  which 
we  ourselves  frame.  All  knowledge,  that  is  to  say, 
is  obtained  only  either  by  contradicting  his  own 
fundamental  notion,  or  by  placing  it  in  relations 
which  are  confessedly  artificial  and  superinduced. 
It  is  to  this  point  that  we  come. 

The  proposition  which  is  fundamental  to  the  dis- 
cussion is  that  .we  have  knowledge  only  where  we 
perceive  the  agreement  or  disagreement  of  ideas. 
Locke  then  takes  up  each  of  his  four  classes  of  con- 
nection, in  order  to  ascertain  the  extent  of  knowl- 
edge in  it.  Our  knowledge  of  “ identity  and  diversity 
extends  as  far  as  our  ideas,”  because  we  intuitively 
perceive  every  idea  to  be  “ what  it  is,  and  different 
from  any  other.”  Locke  afterwards  states,  however, 


206 


LEIBNIZS  NEW  ESSAYS. 


that  all  purely  identical  propositions  are  “ trifling,” 
that  is,  they  contain  no  instruction  ; they  teach  us 
nothing.  Thus  the  first  class  of  relations  cannot 
be  said  to  be  of  much  avail.  If  we  consider  the 
fourth  kind  of  knowledge,  that  of  real  existence, 
we  have  an  intuitive  knowledge  of  self,  a demon- 
strative knowledge  of  God,  and  a sensitive  knowl- 
edge of  other  things.  But  sensitive  knowledge,  it 
must  be  noted,  “ does  not  extend  beyond  the  objects 
actually  present  to  our  senses.”  It  can  hardly  be  said, 
therefore,  to  assure  us  of  the  existence  of  objects  at 
all.  It  only  tells  us  what  experiences  are  being  at 
the  time  undergone.  Furthermore,  knowledge  of  all 
three  (God,  self,  and  matter),  since  of  real  being, 
and  not  of  relations  between  ideas,  contradicts  his 
definition  of  knowledge.  But  perhaps  we  shall  find 
knowledge  more  extended  in  the  other  classes.  And 
indeed  Locke  tells  us  that  knowledge  of  relations 
is  the  “largest  field  of  our  knowledge.”  It  in- 
cludes morals  and  mathematics ; but  it  is  to  be 
noticed  that,  according  to  Locke,  in  both  of  these 
branches  our  demonstrations  are  not  regarding  facts, 
but  regarding  either  “modes”  framed  by  ourselves, 
or  relations  that  are  the  creatures  of  our  minds,  — 
“extraneous  and  superinduced”  upon  the  facts,  as 
he  says.  He  thus  anticipates  in  substance,  though 
not  in  phraseology,  Hume’s  distinction  between 
“matters  of  fact”  and  “connections  of  ideas,”  in 
the  latter  of  which  we  may  have  knowledge,  but 
not  going  beyond  the  combinations  that  we  our- 
selves make. 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  207 


This  leaves  one  class,  that  of  co-existence,  to  be 
examined.  Here,  if  anywhere,  must  knowledge,  wor- 
thy of  being  termed  scientific,  be  found.  This  class, 
it  will  be  remembered,  comprehends  onr  knowledge 
concerning  substances.  But  this  extends,  according 
to  Locke,  “ a very  little  way.”  The  idea  of  a sub- 
stance is  a complex  of  various  “ simple  ideas  united 
in  one  subject  and  co-existing  together.”  When 
we  would  know  anything  further  concerning  a sub- 
stance, we  only  inquire  what  other  simple  ideas, 
besides  those  already  united,  co-exist  with  them. 
Since  there  is  no  necessary  connection,  however, 
among  these  simple  ideas,  since  each  is,  by  its  very 
simplicity,  essentially  distinct  from  every  other,  or, 
as  we  have  already  learned,  since  nothing  is  essen- 
tial to  an  individual,  we  can  never  be  sure  that  any 
idea  really  co-exists  with  others.  Or,  as  Locke 
says,  in  physical  matters  we  “can  go  no  further 
than  particular  experience  informs  us  of.  . . . We 
can  have  no  certain  knowledge  of  universal  truths 
concerning  natural  bodies.”  And  again,  “ universal 
propositions  of  whose  truth  and  falsehood  we  have 
certain  knowledge  concern  not  existence  ; ” while, 
on  the  other  hand,  “ particular  affirmations  are  only 
concerning  existence,  declaring  only  the  accidental 
union  or  separation  of  ideas  in  things  existing.” 
This  particular  knowledge,  it  must  be  recalled,  is, 
in  turn,  only  sensitive,  and  thus  extends  not  beyond 
the  time  wdien  the  sensation  is  had. 

We  are  not  surprised  then  at  learning  from  Locke 
that  regarding  bodies  “we  are  not  capable  of 


208 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


scientific  knowledge.”  “ Natural  philosophy  is  not 
capable  of  being  made  a science  or,  as  Locke  else- 
where states  it,  knowledge  regarding  the  nominal 
essence  is  “trifling”  (Kant’s  analytic  judgment)  ; 
regarding  the  real  essence  is  impossible.  For  ex- 
ample, when  we  say  that  all  gold  is  fusible,  this 
means  either  simply  that  fusibility  is  one  of  the 
ideas  which  we  combine  to  get  the  general  idea  of 
gold,  so  that  in  making  the  given  judgment  we  only 
expand  our  own  notion  ; or  it  means  that  the  “real” 
substance  gold  is  always  fusible.  But  this  is  a state- 
ment we  have  no  right  to  make,  and  for  two  reasons  : 
we  do  not  know  what  the  real  substance  gold  is  ; and 
even  if  we  did,  we  should  not  know  that  fusibility 
always  co-exists  with  it.  The  summary  of  the  whole 
matter  is  that  “ general  certainty  is  to  be  found  only 
in  our  ideas.  Whenever  we  go  to  seek  it  else- 
where, in  experiment  or  observations  without  us,  our 
knowledge  goes  not  beyond  particulars.” 

It  has  been  necessary  to  give  an  account  of 
Locke’s  views  at  this  length  because  it  is  in  his  dis- 
cussion of  the  limitations  and  extent  of  knowledge 
that  his  theory  culminates.  While  not  working  out 
his  sensationalism  as  consistently  as  did  Ilume,  he 
yet  reduces  knowledge  to  that  of  the  existence  of 
God  and  ourselves  (whose  natures,  however,  are 
unknown),  and  to  a knowledge  of  mathematical  and 
moral  relations,  which,  however,  concerns  only  “ the 
habitudes  and  relations  of  abstract  ideas.”  We 
have  now  to  see  by  what  means  Leibniz  finds  a 
wider  sphere  for  certain  and  general  knowledge  by 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  209 


his  theory  of  intellectualism  than  Locke  can  by  his 
sensationalism. 

Leibniz’s  theory  of  knowledge  rests  upon  a dis- 
tinction between  truths  of  fact,  which  are  a posteriori 
and  contingent,  and  truths  of  reason,  which  are  a 
priori  and  necessary.  In  discussing  his  views  re- 
garding experience,  we  learned  that,  according  to 
him,  all  judgments  which  are  empirical  are  also  par- 
ticular, not  allowing  any  inference  beyond  the  given 
cases  experienced.  Experience  gives  only  instances, 
not  principles.  If  we  postpone  for  the  present  the 
discussions  of  truths  of  reason,  by  admitting  that 
they  may  properly  be  said  to  be  at  once  certain  and 
universal,  the  question  arises  how  in  matters  of  fact 
there  can  be  any  knowledge  beyond  that  which 
Locke  admits  ; and  the  answer  is,  that  so  far  as 
the  mere  existence  and  occurrence  of  these  facts  is 
concerned,  there  is  neither  demonstrative  nor  gen- 
eral knowledge.  But  the  intelligence  of  man  does 
not  stop  with  the  isolated  fact ; it  proceeds  to  in- 
quire into  its  cause,  to  ascertain  its  conditions,  and 
thus  to  see  into,  not  merely  its  actual  existence, 
but  its  possibility.  In  Leibniz’s  language:  “The 
real  existence  of  things  that  are  not  necessary 
is  a point  of  fact  or  history ; but  the  knowledge 
of  possibilities  or  necessities  (the  necessary  being 
that  whose  opposite  is  not  possible)  constitutes  de- 
monstrative science.”  In  other  words,  it  is  the 
principle  of  causality,  which  makes  us  see  a fact  not 
as  a mere  fact,  but  as  a dependent  consequence  ; 
which  elevates  knowledge,  otherwise  contingent  and 
It 


210 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


particular,  into  tlie  realm  of  the  universal  and 
apodictic.  Underlying  all  “ accidental  union  ” is 
the  real  synthesis  of  causation. 

If  we  follow  the  discussion  as  it  centres  about  the 
terms  “ nominal”  and  “ real,”  it  stands  as  follows  : 
Leibniz  objects  to  the  use  of  the  term  “ essence  ” in 
this  connection,  but  is  willing  to  accept  that  of  “defi- 
nition ; ” for,  as  he  says,  a substance  can  have  but 
one  essence,  while  there  may  be  several  definitions, 
which,  however,  all  express  the  same  essence.  The 
essence  is  the  possibility  of  that  which  is  under  con- 
sideration ; the  definition  is  the  statement  of  that 
which  is  supposed  to  be  possible.  The  “ nominal” 
definition,  however,  while  it  implies  this  possibility, 
does  not  expressly  affirm  it,  — that  is  to  say,  it  may 
always  be  doubted  whether  the  nominal  definition 
has  any  possibility  (or  reality)  corresponding  to  it 
until  experience  comes  to  our  aid  and  makes  us 
know  it  a posteriori.  A “real”  definition,  on  the 
other  hand,  makes  us  know  a priori  the  reality  of 
the  thing  defined  by  showing  us  the  mode  of  its 
production,  “ by  exhibiting  its  cause  or  generation.” 
Even  our  knowledge  of  facts  of  experience  cannot 
be  said,  therefore,  to  be  arbitrary,  for  we  do  not 
combine  ideas  just  as  we  please,  but  “our  combina- 
tions may  be  justified  by  reason  which  shows  them 
to  be  possible,  or  by  experience  which  shows  them 
to  be  actual,  and  consequently  also  possible.”  To 
take  Locke’s  example  about  gold,  “ the  essence  of 
gold  is  that  which  constitutes  it  and  gives  it  its 
sensible  qualities,  and  these  qualities,  so  far  as  they 


THE  NATUliE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  211 

f 

enable  us  to  recognize  it,  constitute  its  nominal 
essence,  while  a real  and  causal  definition  would 
enable  us  to  explain  the  contexture  or  internal  dis- 
position. The  nominal  definition,  however,  is  also 
real  in  one  sense,  — not  in  itself,  indeed,  since  it  does 
not  enable  us  to  know  a priori  the  possibility  or  pro- 
duction of  the  body,  but  empirically  real.” 

It  is  evident  from  these  quotations  that  what  Leib- 
niz understands  by  “ possibility  ” is  the  condition  or 
cause  of  a given  fact ; and  that,  while  Locke  distin- 
guishes between  particular,  accidental  and  demon- 
strative, general  knowledge  as  two  opposed  kinds, 
concerned  with  two  distinct  and  mutually  exclusive 
spheres,  with  Leibniz  they  are  distinctions  in  the 
aspect  of  the  same  sphere  of  fact.  In  reality  there 
is  no  combination  of  qualities  accidental,  as  Locke 
thought  that  by  far  the  greater  part  were  ; in  every 
empirical  fact  there  is  a cause  or  condition  involved 
that  is  invariable,  and  that  constitutes  the  reason 
of  the  fact.  The  “ accidental”  is  only  in  the  rela- 
tion of  our  ideas  to  objects,  not  in  the  objects 
themselves.  There  may  be  accidental  mental  as- 
sociations ; there  are  no  accidental  relations.  In 
empirical,  or  a posteriori , knowledge,  so-called,  the 
reason  is  there,  but  is  not  known.  A priori  knowl- 
edge, the  real  definition,  discovers  and  explicitly 
states  this  reason.  Contingent  knowledge  is  there- 
fore potentially  rational ; demonstrative  knowledge 
is  the  actual  development  of  the  reasons  implicitly 
contained  in  experience. 

We  may  with  advantage  connect  this  discussion 


212 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


with  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  Locke  and  Leibniz 
regarding  intelligence  and  reality.  To  Locke,  as  we 
have  seen,  knowledge  is  essentially  a matter  of  re- 
lations or  connections;  but  relations  are  “superin- 
duced” and  “extraneous”  as  regards  the  facts. 
Every  act  of  knowledge  constitutes,  therefore,  in 
some  way  a departure  from  the  reality  to  be  known. 
Knowledge  and  fact  are,  by  their  very  definition, 
opposed  to  one  another.  But  in  Leibniz’s  view  in- 
telligence, or»reason,  enters  into  the  constitution  of 
reality;  indeed,  it  is  reality.  The  relations  which 
are  the  “ creatures  of  the  understanding  ” are,  there- 
fore, not  foreign  to  the  material  to  be  known,  but  are 
organic  to  it,  forming  its  content.  The  process, 
then,  in  which  the  mind  perceives  the  connections 
or  relations  of  ideas  or  objects,  is  simply  the  pro- 
cess by  which  the  mind  comes  to  the  consciousness 
of  the  real  nature  of  these  objects,  not  a process  of 
“ superinducing  ” unreal  ideas  upon  them.  The  diffi- 
culty of  Locke  is  the  difficulty  of  every  theory  of 
knowledge  that  does  not  admit  an  organic  unity  of 
the  knowing  mind  and  the  known  universe.  The 
theory  is  obliged  to  admit  that  all  knowledge  is  in  the 
form  of  relations  which  have  their  source  in  intelli- 
gence. But  being  tied  to  the  view  that  reality  is 
distinct  from  intelligence,  it  is  obliged  to  draw  the 
conclusion  that  these  relations  are  not  to  be  found 
in  actual  existence,  and  hence  that  all  knowledge, 
whatever  else  it  may  be,  is  unreal  in  the  sense  that 
it  does  not  and  cannot  conform  to  actual  fact.  But, 
in  the  theory  of  Leibniz,  the  process  of  relating 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  213 


which  is  the  essence  of  knowledge  is  only  the  rea- 
lization on  the  part  of  the  individual  mind  of  the 
relations  or  reasons  that  eternally  constitute  re- 
ality. Since  reality  is,  and  is  what  it  is,  through 
intelligence,  whatever  relations  intelligence  rightly 
perceives  are  not  “ extraneous”  to  reality,  but  are 
its  essence.”  As  Leibniz  says,  “ Truth  consists  in 
the  relations  between  the  objects  of  our  ideas.  This 
does  not  depend  upon  language,  but  is  common  to 
us  with  God,  so  that  when  God  manifests  a truth  to 
us,  toe  acquire  wliat  is  already  in  his  understanding. 
For  although  there  is  an  infinite  difference  between 
his  ideas  and  ours  as  to  their  perfection  and  extent, 
yet  it  is  always  true  that  as  to  the  same  relation 
they  are  identical.  And  it  is  in  this  relation  that 
truth  exists.”  To  this  may  be  added  another  state- 
ment, which  throws  still  further  light  on  this  point  : 
“ Ideas  are  eternally  in  God,  and  are  in  us  before 
we  perceive  them.” 

We  have  now  to  consider  somewhat  more  in  detail 
the  means  by  which  the  transformation  of  empirical 
into  rational  knowledge  is  carried  on.  Leibniz 
points  out  that  the  difficulty  concerning  scientific 
knowledge  of  sensible  facts  is  not  lack  of  data,  but, 
in  a certain  sense,  superfluity  of  data.  It  is  not 
that  we  perceive  no  connections  among  objects,  but 
that  we  perceive  many  which  we  cannot  reduce  to 
one  another.  “ Our  experiences,”  says  Leibniz, 
“ are  simple  only  in  appearance,  for  they  are  al- 
ways accompanied  by  circumstances  connected  with 
them,  although  these  relations  are  not  understood  by 


214 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


us.  These  circumstances  furnish  material  capable 
of  explanation  and  analysis.  There  is  thus  a sort 
of  pleonasm  in  our  perceptions  of  sensible  objects 
and  qualities,  since  we  have  more  than  one  idea  of 
the  same  object.  Gold  can  be  nominally  defined  in 
many  ways.  Such  definitions  are  only  provisional.” 
This  is  to  say,  empirical  knowledge  will  become  ra- 
tional when  it  is  possible  to  view  any  subject-mat- 
ter as  a unity,  instead  of  a multiplicity  of  varied 
aspects.  And  on  this  same  subject  he  says,  in  an- 
other connection  : “A  great  number  of  experiences 
can  furnish  us  data  more  than  sufficient  for  scientific 
knowledge,  provided  only  we  have  the  art  of  using 
these  data.”  The  aim  of  science  is  therefore,  to 
discover  the  dynamic  unity  which  makes  a whole 
of  what  appears  to  be  a mere  mass  of  accidentally 
connected  circumstances.  This  unity  of  relations  is 
the  individual. 

It  is  thus  evident  that  to  Leibniz  the  individual  is 
not  the  beginning  of  knowledge,  but  its  goal.  The 
individual  is  the  organic,  the  dynamic  unity  of  the 
variety  of  phases  or  notions  presented  us  in  sense- 
experience.  Individuality  is  not  “ simplicity  ” in  the 
sense  of  Locke  ; that  is,  separation  from  all  relations. 
It  is  complete  connection  of  all  relations.  “ It  is  im- 
possible for  us  to  have  [complete]  knowledge  of  indi- 
viduals, and  to  find  the  means  of  determining  exactly 
the  individuality  of  anything  ; for  in  individuality  all 
circumstances  are  combined.  Individuality  envelops 
the  infinite.  Only  so  far  as  we  know  the  infinite  do 
we  know  the  individual,  on  account  of  the  influence 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  215 

(if  this  word  be  correctly  understood)  that  all 
things  in  the  universe  exercise  upon  one  another.” 
Leibniz,  in  short,  remains  true  to  his  conception  of 
the  monad  as  the  ultimate  reality;  for  the  monad, 
though  an  individual,  yet  has  the  universe  as  its  con- 
tent. We  shall  be  able,  therefore,  to  render  our 
sensible  experiences  rational  just  in  the  degree  in 
which  we  can  discover  the  underlying  relations  and 
dependencies  which  make  them  members  of  one 
individual. 

For  the  process  of  transformation  Leibniz  relies 
especially  upon  two  methods,  — those  of  mathematics 
and  of  classification.  Of  the  former  he  here  says  but 
little  ; but  the  entire  progress  of  physical  science 
since  the  time  of  Leibniz  has  been  the  justification 
of  that  little.  In  the  passage  already  quoted  re- 
garding the  need  of  method  for  using  our  sensible 
data,  he  goes  on  to  say  that  the  “ infinitesimal 
analysis  has  given  us  the  means  of  allying  physics 
and  geometry,  and  that  dynamics  has  furnished  us 
with  the  key  to  the  general  laws  of  nature.”  It  is 
certainly  competent  testimony  to  the  truth  of  Leib- 
niz’s fundamental  principles  that  he  foresaw  also 
the  course  which  the  development  of  biological 
science  would  take.  No  classification  based  upon 
resemblances,  says  Leibniz  in  effect,  can  be  re- 
garded as  wholly  arbitrary,  since  resemblances  are 
found  in  nature  also.  The  only  question  is  whether 
our  classification  is  based  upon  superficial  or  funda- 
mental identities  ; the  superficial  resemblances  being 
such  as  are  external,  or  the  effects  of  some  common 


216 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


cause,  while  the  fundamental  resemblances  are  such 
as  are  the  cause  of  whatever  other  similarities  are 
found.  “ It  can  be  said  that  whatever  we  compare 
or  distinguish  with  truth,  nature  differentiates,  or 
makes  agree,  also  ; but  that  nature  has  differences 
and  identities  which  are  better  than  ours,  which  we 
do  not  know.  . . . The  more  ice  discover  the  genera- 
tion of  species,  and  the  more  we  follow  in  our  classi- 
fications the  conditions  that  are  required  for  their 
production,  the  nearer  we  approach  the  natural 
order.”  Our  classifications,  then,  so  far  as  they 
depend  upon  what  is  conditioned,  are  imperfect  and 
provisional,  although  they  cannot  be  said  to  be  false 
(since  “ while  nature  may  give  us  those  more  com- 
plete and  convenient,  it  will  not  give  the  lie  to  those 
we  have  already”)  ; while  so  far  as  they  rest  upon 
what  is  causal  and  conditioning,  they  are  true,  gen- 
eral, and  necessary.  In  thus  insisting  that  classifi- 
cation should  be  genetic,  Leibniz  anticipated  the 
great  service  which  the  theory  of  evolution  has 
done  for  biological  science  in  enabling  .science  to 
form  classes  which  are  “ natural ; ” that  is,  based  on 
identity  of  origin. 

Leibniz  culminates  his  discussion  of  classification 
as  a method  of  translating  the  empirical  into  the  ra- 
tional, by  pointing  out  that  it  rests  upon  the  law  of 
continuity  ; and  that  this  law  contains  two  factors,  — 
one  equivalent  to  the  axiom  of  the  Realists,  that  na- 
ture is  nowhere  empty  ; the  other,  to  that  of  the  Nom- 
inalists, that  nature  does  nothing  uselessly.  “ One 
of  these  principles  seems  to  make  nature  a prodigal, 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  217 

the  other  a miser  ; and  yet  both  are  true  if  properly 
understood,”  says  Leibniz.  “ Nature  is  like  a good 
manager,  sparing  where  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to 
be  magnificent.  It  is  magnificent  in  its  effects,  and 
economical  in  the  causes  used  to  produce  them.” 
In  other  words,  classification  becomes  science  when 
it  presents  us  with  both  unity  and  difference.  The 
principle  of  unity  is  that  of  nature  as  a miser  and 
economical ; that  of  differentiation  is  the  principle 
of  nature  as  prodigal  and  magnificent.  The  thor- 
oughly differentiated  unity  is  nature  as  self-specify- 
ing, or  as  an  organic,  not  an  abstract,  unity. 

The  gist  of  the  whole  matter  is,  then,  that  ex- 
perience presents  us  with  an  infinity  of  ideas,  which 
may  appear  at  first  sight  arbitrary  and  accidental 
in  their  connections.  This  appearance,  however,  is 
not  the  fact.  These  ideas  are  the  effects  of  certain 
causes ; and  in  ascertaining  these  conditions,  we 
reduce  the  apparently  unrelated  variety  of  experi- 
ences to  underlying  unities,  and  these  unities,  like 
all  real  unities  or  simple  beings,  are  spiritual  and 
rational  in  nature.  Leibniz’s  ordinary  way  of  stating 
this  is  that  the  principle  of  truths  of  fact  is  that  of 
sufficient  reason.  This  principle  Leibniz  always 
treats  as  distinguished  from  that  of  identity  (and 
contradiction)  as  the  ruling  category  of  truths  of 
reason.  And  we  shall  follow  him  in  discussing  the 
two  together. 

“ Our  reasonings  are  based  on  two  leading  prin- 
ciples,— that  of  contradiction,  in  virtue  of  which 
we  judge  false  all  which  contains  contradiction, 


218 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


and  true  that  which  is  opposed  or  contradictory  to 
that  which  is  false  ; and  that  of  sufficient  reason, 
in  virtue  of  which  we  judge  that  no  fact  is  true  or 
actual,  no  proposition  veritable,  unless  there  is  a 
sufficient  reason  why  it  is  as  it  is,  and  not  otherwise, 
although  these  reasons  are  generally  unknown  to  us. 
Thus  there  are  two  sorts  of  truths,  — those  of  reason, 
and  those  of  fact.  The  truths  of  reason  are  neces- 
sary, and  their  opposites  impossible  ; while  those  of 
fact  are  contingent,  and  their  opposites  possible. 
When  a truth  is  necessary,  its  reason  can  be  dis- 
covered by  analysis,  resolving  it  into  ideas  and 
truths  that  are  simpler,  until  the  primitive  truths 
are  arrived  at.  It  is  thus  that  the  mathematicians 
proceed  in  reducing  by  analysis  the  theorems  of 
speculation  and  the  canons  of  practice  into  defini- 
tions, axioms,  and  postulates.  Thus  they  come  to 
simple  ideas  whose  definition  cannot  be  given  ; 
primitive  truths  that  cannot  be  proved,  and  which 
do  not  need  it,  since  they  are  identical  propositions, 
whose  opposite  contains  a manifest  contradiction.” 
•“  But  in  contingent  truths  — those  of  fact  — the 
sufficient  reason  must  be  found ; namely,  in  the  suc- 
cession of  things  which  fill  the  created  universe,  — for 
otherwise  the  analysis  into  particular  reasons  would 
go  into  detail  without  limit,  by  reason  of  the  im- 
mense variety  of  natural  things,  and  of  the  infinite 
divisibility  of  bodies.  There  are  an  infinity  of 
figures  and  of  past  aud  present  movements  which 
enter  into  the  efficient  cause  of  my  present  writing, 
and  there  are  an  infinity  of  minute  inclinations  and 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  219 

dispositions  of  my  soul  which  enter  into  its  final 
cause.  And  since  all  this  detail  contains  only  other 
contingent  and  particular  antecedents,  each  of  which 
has  need  of  a similar  analysis  to  account  for  it,  we 
really  make  no  progress  by  this  analysis  ; and  it  is 
necessary  that  the  final  or  sufficient  reason  be  out- 
side the  endless  succession  or  series  of  contingent 
particulars,  that  it  consist  in  a necessary  being,  in 
which  this  series  of  changes  is  contained  only  emi- 
nenter , as  in  its  source.  This  necessary  being  and 
source  is  what  we  call  God.” 

In  other  words,  the  tracing  of  empirical  facts  to 
their  causes  and  conditions  does  not,  after  all,  render 
them  wholly  rational.  The  series  of  causes  is  end- 
less. Every  condition  is  in  turn  conditioned.  We 
are  not  so  much  solving  the  problem  of  the  reason 
of  a given  fact,  as  we  are  stating  the  problem  in 
other  terms  as  we  go  on  in  this  series.  Every  solu- 
tion offers  itself  again  as  a problem,  and  this  end- 
lessly. If  these  truths  of  fact,  then,  are  to  be 
rendered  wholly  rational,  it  must  be  in  something 
which  lies  outside  of  the  series  considered  as  a 
series  ; that  is,  something  which  is  not  an  ante- 
cedent of  any  one  of  the  series,  but  is  equally  related 
to  each  and  to  all  as  their  ground  and  source. 
This,  considered  as  an  argument  for  the  existence 
of  God,  we  shall  deal  with  hereafter  ; now  we  are 
concerned  only  with  its  bearing  upon  the  relation 
of  experience  to  the  universality  and  necessity  of 
knowledge.  According  to  this,  the  ultimate  mean- 
ing of  facts  is  found  in  their  relation  to  the  divine 


220 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


intelligence ; for  Leibniz  is  emphatic  in  insisting 
that  the  relation  of  God  to  experience  is  not  one  of 
bare  will  to  creatures  produced  by  this  will  (as  Des- 
cartes had  supposed) , but  of  a jvill  governed  wholly 
by  Intelligence.  As  Leibniz  states  it  in  another 
connection,  not  only  matters  of  fact,  but  mathe- 
matical truths,  have  the  same  final  basis  in  the  divine 
understanding.  fc 

“'Such  truths,  strictly  speaking,  are  only  condi- 
tional, and  say  that  in  case  their  subject  existed 
they  would  be  found  such  and  such.  But  if  it  is 
again  asked  in  what  consists  this  conditional  con- 
nection in  which  there  is  necessary  reality,  the  reply 
is  that  it  is  in  the  relation  of  ideas.  And  by  the  fur- 
ther question,  Where  would  be  the  ideas  if  no  spirit 
existed  ; and  what  would  then  become  of  the  founda- 
tion of  the  certainty  of  such  truths  ? — we  are  brought 
to  the  final  foundation  of  truths  ; namely,  that  su- 
preme and  universal  spirit,  which  must  exist,  and 
whose  understanding  is,  in  reality,  the  region  of  the 
eternal  truths.  And  in  order  that  it  may  not  be 
thought  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  have  recourse  to 
this  region,  we  must  consider  that  these  necessary 
truths  contain  the  determining  reason  and  regulative 
principle  of  existence,  and,  in  a word,  of  the  laws 
of  the  universe.  Thus  these  necessary  truths,  being 
anterior  to  the  existences  of  contingent  beings,  must 
in  turn  be  based  upon  the  existence  of  a necessary 
substance.” 

It  is  because  facts  are  not  mere  facts,  in  short,  but 
are  the  manifestation  of  a “ determining  reason  and 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  221 


regulative  principle  ” which  finds  its  home  in  uni- 
versal intelligence,  that  knowledge  of  them  can 
become  necessary  and  general. 

The  general  nature  of  truths  of  reason  and  of 
their  ruling  principle,  identity  and  contradiction,  has 
already  been  given  in  the  quotation  regarding  the 
•principle  of  sufficient  reason.  It  is  Leibniz’s  con- 
tention that  only  in  truths  whose  opposite  is  seen  to 
involve  self-contradiction  can  we  have  absolute  cer- 
tainty, and  that  it  is  through  connection  with  such 
eternal  truths  that  the  certainty  of  our  other  knowl- 
edge rests.  It  is  thus  evident  why  Leibniz  insists, 
as  against  Locke,  upon  the  great  importance  of 
axioms  and  maxims.  They  are  important,  not 
merely  in  themselves,  but  as  the  sole  and  indis- 
pensable bases  of  scientific  truth  regarding  all  mat- 
ters. Leibniz  at  times,  it  is  true,  speaks  as  if 
demonstrative  and  contingent  truths  were  of  them- 
selves, in  principle,  distinct,  and  even  opposed.  But 
he  also  corrects  himself  by  showing  that  contingency 
is  rather  a subjective  limitation  than  an  objective 
quality.  We,  indeed,  do  not  see  that  the  truth  “ I 
exist,”  for  example,  is  necessary,  because  we  can- 
not see  how  its  opposite  involves  contradiction. 
But  “ God  sees  how  the  two  terms  ‘ I’  and  ‘ exist’ 
are  connected  ; that  is,  why  I exist.”  So  far  as  we 
can  see  facts,  then,  frpm  the  standpoint  of  the 
divine  intelligence,  so  far,  it  would  appear,  our 
knowledge  is  necessary. 

Since  these  axioms,  maxims,  or  first  truths  are 
“ innate,”  we  are  in  a condition  to  complete  (for 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


the  first  time)  the  discussion  of  innate  ideas.  These 
ideas  constitute,  as  we  have  learned,  the  essential 
content  of  the  divine  intelligence,  and  of  ours  so  far 
as  we  have  realized  our  identity  with  God’s  under- 
standing. The  highest  form  of  knowledge,  there- 
fore, is  self-consciousness.  This  bears  the  same 
relation  to  necessary  truths  that  the  latter  bear  to 
experience.  “ Knowledge  of  necessary  and  eternal 
truths,”  says  Leibniz,  “distinguishes  us  from  simple 
animals,  and  makes  us  have  reason  and  science,  ele- 
vating us  to  the  knowledge  of  ourselves.  We  are  thus 
developed  to  self-consciousness  ; and  in  being  con- 
scious of  ourselves  we  are  conscious  of  being,  of 
substance,  of  the  simple,  of  the  spiritual,  of  God.” 
And  again  he  says  that  “ those  that  know  necessary 
truths  are  rational  spirits,  capable  of  self-conscious- 
ness, of  recognizing  what  is  termed  Ego,  substance, 
and  monad.  Thus  they  are  rendered  capable  of 
demonstrative  knowledge.”  “We  are  innate  to 
ourselves ; and  since  we  are  beings,  being  is  innate 
to  us,  for  knowledge  of  it  is  implicit  in  that  which 
we  have  of  ourselves.” 

Knowledge,  in  fine,  may  be  regarded  as  an  ascend- 
ing series  of  four  terms.  The  first  is  constituted  by 
sensations  associated  together  in  such  a way  that  a 
relation  of  antecedence  and  consequence  exists  be- 
tween them.  This  is  “ experience.”  The  second 
stage  comes  into  existence  when  we  connect  these 
experiences,  not  by  mere  relations  of  “ consecution,” 
but  by  their  conditions,  by  the  principle  of  causality, 
and  especially  by  that  of  sufficient  reason,  which 


THE  NATURE  AND  EXTENT  OF  KNOWLEDGE.  223 

connects  them  with  the  supreme  intelligence,  God. 
This  stage  is  science.  The  third  is  knowledge  of 
the  axioms  and  necessary  truths  in  and  of  them- 
selves, not  merely  as  involved  in  science.  The 
fourth  is  self-consciousness,  the  knowledge  of  intel- 
ligence, in  its  intimate  and  universal  nature,  by 
which  we  know  God,  the  mind,  and  all  real  sub- 
stance. In  the  order  of  time  the  stage  of  experience 
is  first,  and  that  of  self-consciousness  last.  But  in 
the  lowest  stage  there  are  involved  the  others.  The 
progress  of  knowledge  consists  in  the  development 
or  unfolding  of  this  implicit  content,  till  intelligence, 
spirit,  activity,  is  clearly  revealed  as  the  source  and 
condition  of  all. 


i 


224 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 

ONE  of  the  chapters  concerning  knowledge  is 
entitled,  “The  Knowledge  that  we  have  of 
God.”  This  introduces  us  to  the  theology  of  Leib- 
niz and  indirectly  to  the  completion  of  those  ethical 
doctrines  already  outlined  in  the  chapter  on  will. 
Leibniz  employs  three  arguments  to  prove  the  ex- 
istence of  God  : that  of  God  as  the  sufficient  reason 
of  the  world  (substantially  the  cosmological  proof)  ; 
of  God  as  the  source  of  the  pre-established  harmony 
(an  extension  of  the  teleological  proof)  ; and  the 
ontological.  The  latter  lie  accepts  as  it  came  from 
the  hands  of  Descartes,  but  insists  that  it  requires 
an  added  argument  before  it  ranks  as  anything 
more  than  presumptive  proof.  The  Anselmic- 
Cartesian  argument,  as  stated  by  Leibniz,  is  as 
follows:  “God  is  defined  as  the  greatest,  or  most 
perfect,  of  beings,  or  as  a being  of  supreme  gran- 
deur and  perfection.  But  in  the  notion  of  a perfect 
being,  existence  must  be  included,  siuce  it  is  some- 
thing more  to  exist  than  not  to  exist.  Or  existence 
is  a perfection,  and  hence  must  belong  to  the  most 
perfect  being ; otherwise  some  perfection  would  be 
lacking,  which  is  contrary  to  the  definition.”  Or 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ 


225 


as  Descartes  sometimes  puts  it,  in  the  notion  of 
anything  like  a tree,  a mountain,  a triangle,  con- 
tingency is  contained.  We  may  conceive  such  an 
object  to  exist  or  not,  as  we  like.  There  is  no 
necessity  involved  in  our  thought.  But  we  cannot 
think  of  a perfect  being  except  as  existing.  It 
does  not  rest  with  the  decision  of  our  thinking 
whether  or  not  to  include  existence  in  this  notion. 
We  must  necessarily  think  existence  as  soon  as  we 
think  such  a being. 

Leibniz  takes  a middle  position,  he  says,  between 
those  who  consider  this  a demonstrative  argument, 
and  those  who  regard  it  as  a mere  paralogism.  It 
is  pre-supposed  by  this  argument  that  the*  notion 
of  a Supreme  Being  is  possible,  or  that  it  does  not 
involve  contradiction.  This  pre-supposition  is  to 
be  proved.  First,  it  is  well  to  simplify  the  argu- 
ment itself.  The  Cartesian  definition  may  be  re- 
duced to  this  : “ God  is  a being  in  whom  existence 
and  essence  are  one.  From  this  definition  it  fol- 
lows as  a corollary  that  such  a being,  if  possible, 
exists.  For  the  essence  of  a thing  being  just  that 
which  constitutes  its  possibility,  it  is  evident  that 
to  exist  by  its  essence  is  the  same  as  to  exist  by  its 
possibility.  Being  in  itself,  then,  or  God,  may  be 
most  simply  defined  as  the  Being  who  must  exist  if 
he  is  possible.” 

There  are  two  ways  of  proving  this  last  clause 
(namely,  that  he  is  possible)  the  direct  and  the  in- 
direct. The  indirect  is  employed  against  those  who 
assert  that  from  mere  notions,  ideas,  definitions  or 
15 


226 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


possible  essences,  it  is  not  possible  to  infer  actual 
existence.  Such  persons  simply  deny  the  possibility 
of  being  in  itself.  But  if  being-in-itself,  or  abso- 
lute being,  is  impossible,  being-by-another,  or  rel- 
ative, is  also  impossible;  for  there  is  no  “other” 
upon  which  it  may  depend.  Nothing,  in  this  case, 
could  exist.  Or  if  necessary  being  is  not  possible, 
there  is  no  being  possible.  Put  in  another  way, 
God  is  as  necessary  for  possibility  as  for  actual 
existence.  If  there  is  possibility  of  anything,  there 
is  God.  This  leads  up  to  the  direct  proof;  for  it 
follows  that,  if  there  be  a possibility  of  God,  — 
the  Being  in  whom  existence  and  essence  are  one, 
— lie  exists.  “ God  alone  has  such  a position  that 
existence  is  necessary,  if  possible.  But  since  there 
can  be  nothing  opposed  to  the  possibility  of  a 
being  without  limit,  — a being  therefore  without 
negations  and  without  contradiction,  — this  is  suffi- 
cient to  prove  a priori  the  existence  of  God.”  In 
short,  God  being  pure  affirmation,  pure  self-identity, 
the  idea  of  his  Being  cannot  include  contradiction, 
and  hence  is  possible,  — and  since  possible,  ne- 
cessary. Of  this  conception  of  God  as  the  purely 
self-identical,  without  negation,  we  shall  have 
something  to  say  in  the  next  chapter. 

The  cosmological  proof  is,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  that  every  cause  in  the  world  being  at  the 
same  time  an  effect,  it  cannot  be  the  sufficient  reason 
of  anything.  The  whole  series  is  contingent,  and 
requires  a ground  not  prior  to,  but  beyond,  the 
series.  The  only  sufficient  reason  of  anything  is 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 


227 


that  which  is  also  the  sufficient  reason  of  itself,  — 
absolute  being.  The  teleological  argument  Leibniz 
invariably,  I believe,  presents  in  connection  with 
the  idea  of  pre-established  harmony.  “ If  the 
substances  of  experience,”  runs  the  argument, 
“ had  not  received  their  being,  both  active  and 
passive,  from  one  universal  supreme  cause,  they 
would  be  independent  of  one  another,  and  hence 
would  not  exhibit  that  order,  harmony,  and  beauty, 
which  we  notice  in  nature.  This  argument  pos- 
sesses only  moral  certainty  which  becomes  demon- 
strative by  the  new  kind  of  harmony  which  I have 
introduced,  — pre-established  harmony.  Since  each 
substance  expresses  in  its  own  way  that  which 
occurs  beyond  it,  and  can  have  no  influence  on 
other  particular  beings,  it  is  necessary  that  each 
substance,  before  developing  these  phenomena 
from  the  depth  of  its  own  being,  must  have  re- 
ceived this  nature  (this  internal  ground  of  ex- 
ternal phenomena)  from  a universal  cause  from 
whom  all  beings  depend,  and  which  effects  that  one 
be  perfectly  in  accord  with  and  corresponding  to 
every  other.  This  cannot  occur  except  through 
a being  of  infinite  knowledge  and  power.” 
Having  determined  the  existence  of  God,  Leibniz 
states  his  attributes.  These  may  be  reduced  to 
three.  He  is  perfect  in  power,  in  wisdom,  and  in 
goodness.  “ Perfection  is  nothing  other  than  the 
whole  of  positive  reality  separated  from  the  limits 
and  bounds  of  things.  Where  there  are  no  limits, 
as  iu  God,  perfection  is  absolutely  infinite.”  “In 


228 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


Gocl  exists  power,  which  is  the  source  of  all  knowl- 
edge,— which  comprehends  the  realm  of  ideas,  down 
to  its  minutest  detail,  — and  will,  which  directs  all 
creations  and  changes  according  to  the  principle 
of  the  best.”  Or  as  he  expands  it  at  another  time  : 
“The  supreme  cause  must  be  intelligent,  for  the 
existing  world  being  contingent,  and  an  infinity  of 
other  worlds  being  .equally  possible,  it  is  necessary 
that  the  cause  of  the  world  take  into  consideration 
all  these  possible  worlds  in  order  to  decide  upon 
one.  Now  this  relation  of  a substance  to  simple 
ideas  must  be  the  relation  of  understanding  to  its 
ideas,  while  deciding  upon  one  is  the  act  of  will  in 
choosing.  Finally  it  is  the  power  of  this  substance 
which  executes  the  volition.  Power  has  its  end  in 
being  ; wisdom,  or  understanding,  in  truth  ; and  will 
in  good.  Thus  the  cause  must  be  absolutely  per- 
fect in  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness.  His  under- 
standing is  the  source  of  essences,  and  his  will  the 
origin  of  existences.” 

This  brings  us  to  the  relation  of  God  to  the 
world,  or  to  an  account  of  the  creating  activity  of 
God.  This  may  be  considered  to  be  metaphys-j 
ically,  logically,  or  morally  necessary.  To  say 
that  it  is  metaphysically  necessary  is  to  say  that 
it  is  the  result  of  the  divine  essence,  that  it  would 
imply  a contradiction  of  the  very  being  of  God  for 
the  world  not  to  be  and  not  to  be  as  it  is.  In  short, 
the  world  becomes  a mere  emanation  of  power, 
since,  as  we  have  just  learned,  power  and  being  are 
correlative.  But  this  leaves  out  of  account  the 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 


229 


divine  understanding.  Not  all  possible  worlds 
emanate  from  God’s  being,  but  there  is  recognition 
of  them  and  of  their  relations  to  one  another. 
Were  the  world  to  proceed  from  the  divine  under- 
standing alone,  however,  it  would  be  logically  ne- 
cessary, — that  is,  it  would  bear  the  same  relation  to 
'his  understanding  that  necessary  truths  do.  Its 
opposite  would  imply  contradiction,  not  indeed  of 
the  being  of  God,  but  of  his  understanding.  But 
the  will  of  God  plays  the  all-important  part  of 
choosing  among  the  alternative  worlds  presented 
by  reason,  each  of  which  is  logically  possible.  One 
of  these  worlds,  although  standing  on  the  same 
intellectual  plane  as  the  others,  is  morally  better,  — 
that  is,  it  involves  greater  happiness  and  perfection 
to  the  creatures  constituting  it.  God  is  guided 
then  by  the  idea  of  the  better  (and  this  is  the  best 
possible)  world.  His  will  is  not  arbitrary  in  cre- 
ating : it  does  not  work  by  a fiat  of  brute  power. 
But  neither  is  it  fatalistic  : it  does  not  work  by 
compulsory  necessity.  It  is  both  free  and  neces- 
sary ; free,  for  it  is  guided  by  naught  excepting 
God’s  own  recognition  of  an  end  ; necessary,  for 
God,  being  God,  cannot  viorally  act  otherwise  than 
by  the  principle  of  the  better,  — and  this  in  con- 
tingent matters  is  the  best.  Hence  the  optimism 
of  Leibniz,  to  which  here  no  further  allusion  can  be 
made. 

Since  the  best  is  precisely  God  himself,  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  created  world  will  have,  as  far  as 
possible , his  perfections.  It  would  thus  be  possible 


230 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


to  deduce  from  this  conception  of  God  and  his 
relation  to  the  world  all  those  characteristics  of  the 
Leibnizian  monadology  which  we  formerly  arrived 
at  analytically.  God  is  individual,  but  with  an 
infinite  comprehensiveness.  Each  substance  re- 
peats these  properties  of  the  supreme  substance. 
There  is  an  infinity  of  such  substances,  in  order 
that  the  world  may  as  perfectly  as  possible  mirror 
the  infinity  of  God.  Each,  so  far  as  in  it  lies,  re- 
flects the  activity  of  God ; for  activity  is  the 
very  essence  of  perfection.  And  thus  we  might  go 
through  with  the  entire  list  of  the  properties  of  the 
monad. 

To  complete  the  present  discussion,  however,  it 
is  enough  to  notice  that  intelligence  and  will  must 
be  found  in  every  creature,  and  that  thus  we  ac- 
count for  the  “ appetition  ” and  the  ‘‘  perception  ” 
that  characterize  even  the  lowest  monad.  The 
scale  of  monads,  however,  would  not  be  as  complete 
as  possible  unless  there  were  beings  in  whom  ap- 
petition became  volition,  and  perception,  self-con- 
scious intelligence.  Such  monads  will  stand  in 
quite  other  relation  to  God  than  the  blind  impulse- 
governed  substances.  “ Spirits,”  says  Leibniz, 
“ are  capable  of  entering  into  community  with  God, 
and  God  is  related  to  them  not  only  as  an  inventor 
to  his  machine  (as  he  is  to  other  creatures)  but  as 
a prince  to  his  subjects,  or,  better,  as  a father  to  his 
children.  This  society  of  spirits  constitutes  the 
city  of  God,  — the  most  perfect  state  under  the 
most  perfect  monarch.  This  city  of  God,  this 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 


231 


truly  cosmopolitan  monarchy,  is  a moral  world 
within  the  natural.  Among  all  the  works  of  God 
it  is  the  most  sublime  and  divine.  In  it  consists 
the  true  glory  of  God,  for  there  would  be  no  glory 
of  God  unless  his'  greatness  and  goodness  were 
known  and  admired  by  spirits  ; and  in  his  relation 
to  this  society,  God  for  the  first  time  reveals  his 
goodness,  while  he  manifests  everywhere  his  power 
and  wisdom.  And  as  previously  we  demonstrated 
a perfect  harmony  between  the  two  realms  of  nature, 
— those  of  efficient  and  final  causes,  — so  must  we 
here  declare  harmony  between  the  physical  realm 
of  nature  and  the  moral  realm  of  grace, — that  is, 
between  God  as  the  architect  of  the  mechanical 
world-structure,  and  God  as  the  monarch  of  the 
world  of  spirits.”  God  fulfils  his  creation,  in  other 
words,  in  a realm  of  spirits,  and  fulfils  it  because 
here  there  are  beings  who  do  not  merely  reflect  him 
but  who  enter  into  relations  of  companionship  with 
him,  forming  a community.  This  community  of 
spirits  with  one  another  and  with  God  is  the  moral 
world,  and  we  are  thus  brought  again  to  the  ethics 
of  Leibniz. 

It  has  been  frequently  pointed  out  that  Leibniz 
was  the  first  to  give  ethics  the  form  which  it  has 
since  kept  in  German  philosophy,  — the  division  into 
Natur-reclit  and  Natur-moral.  These  terms  are  diffi- 
cult to  give  in  English,  but  the  latter  corresponds  to 
what  is  ordinarily  called  “ moral  philosophy,”  while 
the  former  is  political  philosophy  so  far  as  that  has 
an  ethical  bearing.  Or  the  latter  may  be  said  to 


232 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


treat  of  the  moral  ideal  and  of  the  moral  motive  and 
of  duty  in  themselves,  while  the  former  deals  with 
the  social,  the  public,  and  in  a certain  sense  the 
external,  aspects  of  .morality. 

Puffendorf  undoubtedly  suggested  this  division  to 
Leibniz  by  his  classification  of  duties  as  external 
and  internal,  — the  first  comprehending  natural  and 
civil  law,  the  second  moral  theology.  But  Puffen- 
dorf confined  the  former  to  purely  external  acts, 
excluding  motives  and  intentions,  and  the  latter  to 
divine  revelation.  Both  are  “ positive,”  and  in 
some  sort  arbitrary,  — one  resting  merely  on  the  fact 
that  certain  institutions  obtain,  the  other  on  the 
fact  that  God  has  made  certain  declarations.  To 
Leibniz,  on  the  other  hand,  the  will  of  God  is  in  no 
sense  the  source  of  moral  truths.  The  will  of  God 
does  not  create  truth,  but  carries  into  effect  the 
eternal  truths  of  the  divine  understanding.  Moral 
truths  are  like  those  of  mathematics.  And  again, 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  purely  external  morality  : 
it  always  contains  an  inner  content,  of  which  the 
external  act  is  only  the  manifestation.  Leibniz 
may  thus  be  said  to  have  made  two  discoveries,  or 
rather  re-discoveries  : one,  that  there  is  a science  of, 
morals,  independent  of  law,  custom,  and  positive 
right;  the  other,  that  the  basis  of  both  “natural” 
and  “ positive”  morals  is  not  the  mere  will  of  God, 
but  is  reason  with  its  content  of  eternal  truths. 

In  morals  the  end  is  happiness,  the  means  wis- 
dom. Happiness  is  defined,  not  as  an  occurrence, 
but  as  a condition,  or  state  of  being.  “ It  is  the  con- 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 


233 


dition  of  permanent  joy.  This  does  not  mean  that 
the  joy  is  actually  felt  every  moment,  but  that  one 
is  in  the  condition  to  enjoy  whenever  he  thinks  of 
it,  and  that,  in  the  interval,  joyfulness  arises  from 
his  activity  and  being.”  Pleasure,  however,  is  not  a 
state,  but  a feeling.  It  is  the  feeling  of  perfection, 
whether  in  ourselves  or  in  anything  else.  It  does 
not  follow  that  we  perceive  intellectually  either  in 
what  the  perfection  of  the  pleasant  thing  consists 
or  in  what  way  it  develops  perfection  within  us.  It 
is  enough  that  it  be  realized  in  feeling,  so  as  to  give 
us  pleasure.  Perfection  is  defined  “ as  increase  of 
being.  As  sickness  is,  as  it  were,  a lowering  and  a 
falling  off  from  health,  so  perfection  is  something 
which  mounts  above  health.  It  manifests  itself  in 
power  to  act ; for  all  substance  consists  in  a certain 
power,  and  the  greater  the  power  the  higher  and 
freer  the  substance.  But  power  increases  in  the 
degree  that  the  many  manifests  itself  from  one  and 
in  one,  while  the  one  rules  many  from  itself  and 
transforms  them  into  self.  But  unity  in  plurality 
is  nothing  else  than  harmony ; and  from  this  comes 
order  or  proportion,  from  which  proceeds  beauty, 
and  beauty  awakens  love.  Thus  it  becomes  evident 
how  happiness,  pleasure,  love,  perfection,  substance, 
power,  freedom,  harmony,  proportion,  and  beauty 
are  bound  up  in  one  another.” 

From  this  condensed  sketch,  taken  from  Leibniz 
himself,  the  main  features  of  his  ethical  doctrine 
clearly  appear.  When  we  were  studying  freedom 
we  saw  that  it  was  not  so  much  a starting-point 


leibxiz’s  new  essays. 


234 

of  the  will  as  its  goal  and  ideal.  We  saw  also 
that  true  freedom  is  dependent  upon  knowledge, 
upon  recognition  of  the  eternal  and  universal. 
What  we  have  here  is  a statement  of  that  doctrine 
in  terms  of  feeling  and  of  will  instead  of  knowledge. 
The  end  of  man  is  stated  to  be  happiness,  but  the 
notion  of  happiness  is  developed  in  such  a way  that 
it  is  seen  to  be  equivalent  to  the  Aristotelian  notion 
of  self-realization  ; “ it  is  development  of  substance, 
and  substance  is  activity.”  It  is  the  union  of  one  and 
the  many  ; and  the  one,  according  to  the  invariable 
doctrine  of  Leibniz,  is  the  spiritual  element,  and  the 
many  is  the  real  content  which  gives  meaning  to  this 
rational  unity.  Happiness  thus  means  perfection, 
and  perfection  a completely  universalized  individual. 
The  motive  toward  the  moral  life  is  elsewhere  stated 
to  be  love ; and  love  is  defined  as  interest  in  per- 
fection, and  hence  culminates  in  love  of  God,  the 
only  absolute  perfection.  It  also  has  its  source 
in  God,  as  the  origin  of  perfection  ; so  that  Leibniz 
says,  Whoso  loves  God,  loves  all. 

Natural  right,  as  distinguished  from  morals,  is 
based  upon  the  notion  of  justice,  this  being  the 
outward  manifestation  of  wisdom,  or  knowledge,  — 
appreciation  of  the  relation  of  actions  to  happiness. 
The  definitions  given  by  Leibniz  are  as  follows : 
Just  and  unjust  are  what  are  useful  or  harmful  to 
the  public,  — that  is,  to  the  community  of  spirits. 
This  community  includes  first  God,  then  humanity, 
then  the  state.  These  are  so  subordinated  that,  in 
cases  of  collision  of  duty,  God,  the  universe  of 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 


235 


relations,  comes  before  the  profit  of  humanity,  and 
this  before  the  state.  At  another  time  Leibniz  de- 
fines justice  as  social  virtue,  and  says  that  there  are 
as  many  kinds  of  “right”  as  there  are  kinds  of 
natural  communities  in  which  happiness  is  an  end 
of  action.  A natural  community  is  defined  as  one 
which  rests  upon  desire  and  the  power  of  satisfying 
it,  and  includes  three  varieties,  — domestic,  civil, 
and  ecclesiastic.  “ Right”  is  defined  as  that  which 
sustains  and  develops  any  natural  community.  It 
is,  in  other  words,  the  will  for  happiness  united  with 
insight  into  what  makes  happiness. 

Corresponding  to  the  three  forms  of  the  social 
organism  (as  we  should  now  call  the  “ natural  com- 
munity ”),  are  the  three  kinds  pf  jus,  — jus  strictum . 
equity,  and  piety.  Each  of  these  has  its  correspond- 
ing prescript.  That  of  jus  strictum  is  to  injure  no 
one  ; of  equity,  to  render  to  each  his  own  ; and  of 
piety,  to  make  the  ethical  law  the  law  of  conduct. 
Jus  strictum  includes  the  right  of  war  and  peace. 
The  right  of  peace  exists  between  individuals  till 
one  breaks  it.  The  right  of  war  exists  between  men 
and  things.  The  victory  of  person  over  thing  is 
property.  Things  thus  come  to  possess  the  right 
of  the  person  to  whom  they  belong  as  against  every 
other  person  ; that  is,  in  the  right  of  the  person  to 
himself  as  against  the  attacks  of  another  (the  right 
to  peace)  is  included  a right  to  his  property.  Jus 
strictum  is,  of  course,  in  all  cases,  enforceable  by 
civil  law  and  the  compulsory  force  which  accom- 
panies it.  Equity,  however,  reaches  beyond  this  to 


236 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


obligation  in  cases  where  there  is  no  right  of  com- 
pulsion. Its  law  is,  Be  of  aid  to  all,  but  to  each 
according  to  his  merits  and  his  claims.  Finalty 
comes  piety.  The  other  two  stages  are  limited. 
The  lowest  is  negative,  it  wards  off  harm  ; the  sec- 
ond aims  after  happiness,  but  only  within  the  limits 
of  earthly  existence.  That  we  should  ourselves  bear 
misery,  even  the  greatest,  for  the  sake  of  others, 
and  should  subject  the  whole  of  this  existence  to 
something  higher,  cannot  be  proved  excepting  as 
we  regard  the  society,  or  community,  of  our  spirits 
with  God.  Justice  with  relation  to  God  compre- 
hends all  virtues.  Everything  that  is,  is  from  God  ; 
and  hence  the  law  of  all  conduct  is  to  use  every- 
thing according  to  its  place  in  the  idea  of  God,  ac- 
cording to  its  function  in  the  universal  harmony. 
It  thus  not  only  complements  the  other  two  kinds 
of  justice  but  is  the  source  of  their  inner  ethical 
worth.  “ Strict  justice”  may  conflict  with  equity. 
But  God  effects  that  what  is  of  use  to  the  public 
well-being  — that  is,  to  the  universe  and  to  human- 
ity— shall  be  of  use  also  to  the  individual.  Thus 
from  the  standpoint  of  God  the  moral  is  advanta- 
geous, and  the  immoral  hurtful.  Kant’s  indebted- 
ness to  Leibniz  will  at  once  appear  to  one  initiated 
into  the  philosophy  of  the  former. 

Leibniz  never  worked  out  either  his  ethics  or  his 
political  philosophy  in  detail ; but  it  is  evident  that 
they  both  take  their  origin  and  find  their  scope  in 
the  fact  of  man’s  relationship  to  God,  that  they 
are  both,  in  fact,  accounts  of  the  methods  of 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 


237 


realizing  a universal  but  not  a merely  formal 
harmony.  For  harmony  is  not,  with  Leibniz,  an 
external  arrangement,  but  is  the  very  soul  of  being. 
Perfect  harmony,  or  adaptation  to  the  universe  of 
relations,  is  the  end  of  the  individual,  and  man  is 
informed  of  his  progress  toward  this  end  by  an  inner 
sentiment  of  pleasure. 

It  may  be  added  that  Leibniz’s  aesthetic  theory, 
so  far  as  developed,  rests  upon  the  same  basis  as  his 
ethical, — namely,  upon  membership  in  the  “ city 
of  God,”  or  community  of  spiritual  beings.  This 
is  implied,  indeed,  in  a passage  already  quoted, 
where  he  states  the  close  connection  of  beauty  with 
harmony  and  perfection.  The  feeling  of  beauty  is 
the  recognition  in  feeling  of  an  order,  proportion, 
and  harmony  which  are  not  yet  intellectually  de- 
scried. Leibniz  illustrates  by  music,  the  dance, 
and  architecture.  This  feeling  of  the  harmonious 
also  becomes  an  impulse  to  produce.  As  perception 
of  beauty  may  be  regarded  as  unexplained,  or  con- 
fused, perception  of  truth,  so  creation  of  beauty  may 
be  considered  as  undeveloped  will.  It  is  action  on 
its  way  to  perfect  freedom,  for  freedom  is  simply 
activity  with  explicit  recognition  of  harmony. 

We  cannot  do  better  than  quote  the  conclusion  of 
the  matter  from  Leibniz’s  “ Principles  of  Nature 
and  of  Grace,”  although,  in  part,  it  repeats  what 
we  have  already  learned.  “ There  is  something 
more  in  the  rational  soul,  or  spirit,  than  there  is  in 
the  monad  or  even  in  the  simple  soul.  Spirit  is 
not  only  a mirror  of  the  universe  of  creatures,  but 


238 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


is  also  an  image  of  the  divine  being.  Spirit  not 
only  has  a perception  of  the  works  of  God,  but  is 
also  capable  of  producing  something  which  resem- 
bles them,  though  on  a small  scale.  To  say  nothing 
of  dreams,  in  which  we  invent  without  trouble  and 
without  volition  things  upon  which  we  must  reflect  a 
long  time  in  order  to  discover  in  our  waking  state, — 
to  say  nothing  of  this,  our  soul  is  architectonic  in 
voluntary  actions  ; and,  in  discovering  the  sciences 
in  accordance  with  which  God  has  regulated  all 
things  ( ponclere , mensura , numero ),  it  imitates  in 
its  department  and  in  its  own  world  of  activity 
that  which  God  does  in  the  macrocosm.  This  is 
the  reason  why  spirits,  entering  through  reason  and 
eternal  truths  into  a kind  of  society  with  God,  are 
members  of  the  city  of  God,  — that  is,  of  the  most 
perfect  state,  formed  and  governed  by  the  best  of 
monarchs,  in  which  there  is  no  crime  without  punish- 
ment, and  no  good  action  without  reward,  and  where 
there  is  as  much  of  virtue  and  of  happiness  as  may 
possibly  exist.  And  this  occurs  not  through  a dis- 
turbance of  nature,  as  if  God’s  dealing  with  souls 
were  in  violation  of  mechanical  laws,  but  by  the 
very  order  of  natural  things,  on  account  of  the 
eternal,  pre-established  harmony  between  the  king- 
doms of  nature  and  grace,  between  God  as  monarch 
and  God  as  architect,  since  nature  leads  up  to 
grace,  and  grace  makes  nature  perfect  in  making 
use  of  it.” 

No  better  sentences  could  be  found  with  which  to 
conclude  this  analysis  of  Leibniz.  They  resound 


THE  THEOLOGY  OF  LEIBNIZ. 


239 


not  only  with  the  grandeur  and  wide  scope  charac- 
teristic of  his  thought,  but  they  contain  his  essen- 
tial idea,  his  pre-eminent  “note,”  — that  of  the 
harmony  of  the  natural  and  the  supernatural,  the 
mechanical  and  the  organic.  The  mechanical  is  to 
Leibniz  what  the  word  signifies;  it  is  the  instru- 
mentaland  tins  in  the  full  meaning  of  the  term. 
Nature  is  instrumental  in  that  it  performs  a func- 
tion, realizes  a purpose,  and  instrumental  in  tire 
sense  that  without  it  spirit,  the  organic,  is  an  empty 
dream.  The  spiritual,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the 
meaning,  the  idea  of  nature.  It  perfects  it,  in  that 
it  makes  it  instrumental  to  itself,  and  thus  renders 
it  not  the  passive  panorama  of  mere  material  force, 
but  the  manifestation  of  living  spirit. 


210 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 

IN  the  exposition  now  completed  we  have  in  gen- 
eral taken  for  granted  the  truth  and  coherency 
of  Leibniz’s  fundamental  ideas,  and  have  contented 
ourselves  with  an  account  of  the  principles  and 
notions  that  flow  from  these  ideas.  The  time  has 
come  for  retracing  our  steps,  and  for  inquiring 
whether  the  assumed  premises  can  he  thus  unques- 
tioningly  adopted.  This  final  chapter,  therefore, 
we  shall  devote  to  criticism  of  the  basis  of  Leibniz’s 
philosophy,  not  attempting  to  test  it  by  a compar- 
ison with  other  systems,  but  by  inquiring  into  its 
internal  coherency,  and  by  a brief  account  of  the 
ways  in  which  his  successors,  or  at  least  one  of 
them,  endeavored  to  make  right  the  points  in  which 
he  appeared  to  fail. 

The  fundamental  contradiction  in  Leibniz  is  to  be 
found,  I believe,  between  the  method  which  he 
adopted  — without  inquiry  into  its  validity  and  scope 
— and  the  subject-matter,  or  perhaps  better  the  atti- 
tude, to  which  he  attempted  to  apply  this  method  ; 
between,  that  is  to  say,  the  scholastic  formal  logic 
on  the  one  hand  and  the  idea  of  inter-relation  de- 
rived from  the  development  of  scientific  thought,  on 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


241 


the  other.  Leibniz  never  thought  of  investigating 
the  formal  logic  bequeathed  by  scholasticism,  with 
a view  to  determining  its  adequacy  as  philosophic 
method.  He  adopted,  as  we  have  seen,  the  prin- 
ciples of  identity  and  contradiction  as  sole  prin- 
ciples of  the  only  perfect  knowledge.  The  type  of 
knowledge  is  that  which  can  be  reduced  to  a series 
of  identical  propositions,  whose  opposite  is  seen  to 
be  impossible,  because  self-contradictory.  Only 
knowledge  in  this  form  can  be  said  to  be  demon- 
strative and  necessary.  As  against  Locke  he  justi- 
fied the  syllogistic  method  of  the  schoolmen  as  the 
typical  method  of  all  rational  truth. 

On  the  other  hand,  Leibniz,  as  we  saw  in  the 
earlier  chapters,  had  learned  positively  from  the 
growth  of  science,  negatively  from  the  failures  of 
Descartes  and  Spinoza,  to  look  upon  the  universe 
as  a unity  of  inter-related  members,  — as  an  organic 
unity,  not  a mere  self-identical  oneness.  Failing  to 
see  the  cause  of  the  failures  of  Descartes  and  Spi- 
noza in  precisely  their  adoption  of  the  logic  of 
identity  and  contradiction  as  ultimate,  he  attempted 
to  reconcile  this  method  with  the  conception  of 
organic  activity.  The  result  is  constant  conflict 
between  the  method  and  content  of  his  philosophy, 
between  its  letter  and  its  spirit.  The  contradiction 
is  a twofold  one.  The  unity  of  the  content  of  his 
philosophy,  the  conception  of  organism  or  harmony, 
is  a unity  which  essentially  involves  difference.  The 
unity  of  his  method  is  a formal  identity  which  ex- 
cludes it.  The  unity,  whose  discovery  constitutes 


242 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


Leibniz’s  great  glory  as  a philosopher,  is  a unity  of 
activity,  a dynamic  process.  The  unity  of  formal 
logic  is  exclusive  of  any  mediation  or  process,  and 
is  essentially  rigid  and  lifeless.  The  result  is  that 
Leibniz  is  constantly  wavering  (in  logical  result, 
not  of  course  in  spirit)  between  two  opposed  errors, 
one  of  which  is,  in  reality,  not  different  from  Spi- 
nozism,  in  that  it  regards  all  distinction  as  only 
phenomenal  and  unreal,  while  the  other  is  akin  to 
atomism,  in  that  attempting  to  avoid  the  doctrine 
of  the  all-inclusive  one,  it  does  so  only  by  supposing 
a multitude  of  unrelated  units,  termed  monads. 
And  thus  the  harmony,  which  in  Leibniz’s  intention 
is  the  very  content  of  reality,  comes  to  be,  in  effect, 
an  external  arrangement  between  the  one  and  the 
many,  the  unity  and  the  distinction,  in  themselves 
incapable  of  real  relations.  Such  were  the  results 
of  Leibniz’s  failure,  in  Kantian  language,  to  criticise 
his  categories,  in  Hegelian  language,  to  develop  a 
logic,  — the  results  of  his  assuming,  without  exam- 
ination, the  validity  of  formal  logic  as  a method  of 
truth. 

So  thoroughly  is  Leibniz  imbued  with  the  belief 
in  its  validity,  that  the  very  conception,  that  of 
sufficient  reason,  which  should  have  been  the  means 
of  saving  him  from  his  contradictions,  is  used  in 
such  a way  as  to  plunge  him  deeper  into  them. 
The  principle  of  sufficient  reason  may  indeed  be 
used  as  purely  formal  and  external,  — as  equivalent 
to  the  notion  that  everything,  no  matter  what,  has 
some  explanation.  Thus  employed,  it  simply  de- 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


243 


dares  that  everything  has  a reason,  without  in  the 
least  determining  the  relied  of  that  reason,  — its  con- 
tent. This  is  what  we  mean  by  calling  it  formal. 
But  this  is  not  the  way  in  which  Leibniz  conceives 
of  it.  According  to  him,  it  is  not  a principle  of 
the  external  connection  of  one  finite,  or  phenomenal, 
fact  with  another.  It  is  a principle  in  the  light  of 
which  the  whole  phenomenal  world  is  to  be  viewed, 
declaring  that  its  ground  and  meaning  are  to  be 
found  in  reason,  in  self-conscious  intelligence.  As 
we  have  seen,  it  is  equivalent,  in  Leibniz’s  case,  to 
the  notion  that  we  have  no  complete  nor  necessary 
knowledge  of  the  world  of  scientific  fact  until 
we  have  referred  it  to  a conditioning  “ Supreme 
Spirit.” 

Looked  at  in  this  way,  we  see  that  the  unity 
which  Leibniz  is  positively  employing  is  an  organic 
unity,  a unity  of  intelligence  involving  organic  refer- 
ence to  the  known  world.  But  such  a conception  of 
sufficient  reason  leaves  no  place  for  the  final  validity 
of  identity  and  non-contradiction ; and  therefore 
Leibniz,  when  dealing  with  his  method,  and  not,  as 
in  the  passages  referred  to,  with  his  subject-matter, 
cannot  leave  the  matter  thus.  To  do  so  indeed 
would  have  involved  a complete  reconstruction  of 
his  philosophy,  necessitating  a derivation  of  all  the 
categories  employed  from  intelligence  itself  (that  is, 
from  the  sufficient  or  conditioning  reason).  But  the 
bondage  to  scholastic  method  is  so  great  that  Leib- 
niz can  see  no  way  but  to  measure  intelligence  by 
the  ready-made  principle  of  identity,  and  thus  vir- 


244 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


tually  (though  not  in  purpose)  to' explain  away  the 
very  principle  of  sufficient  reason.  In  Leibniz’s 
words:  “Contingent  truths  require  an  infinite 
analysis  which  only  God  can  carry  out.  Whence 
by  him  alone  are  they  known  a priori  and  demon- 
stratively. For  although  the  reason  can  always  be 
found  for  some  occurring  state  in  a prior  state,  this 
reason  again  requires  a reason,  and  we  never  arrive 
in  the  series  to  the  ultimate  reason.  But  this  pro- 
gressus  ad  infinitum  takes  (in  us)  the  place  of  a 
sufficient  reason,  which  can  be  found  only  outside 
the  series  in  God,  on  whom  all  its  members,  prior 
and  posterior  depend,  rather  than  upon  one  another. 
Whatever  truth,  therefore , is  incapable  of  analysis, 
and  cannot  be  demonstrated  from  its  own  reasons , but 
has  its  ultimate  reason  and  certainty  only  from  the 
divine  mind,  is  not  necessary.  Everything  that  we 
call  truths  of  fact  come  under  this  head,  and  this  is 
the  root  of  their  contingency.” 

The  sentences  before  the  one  italicized  repeat 
what  we  have  learned  before,  and  seem  to  convey 
the  idea  that  the  phenomenal  world  is  that  which 
does  not  account  for  itself,  because  not  itself  a self- 
determining  reason,  and  which  gets  its  ultimate  ex- 
planation and  ground  in  a self-sufficient  reason,  — 
God.  But  notice  the  turn  given  to  the  thought  with 
the  word  “ therefore.”  Therefore  all  truth  incapable 
of  analysis,  — that  is,  of  reduction  to  identical  prop- 
ositions, whose  opposite  is  impossible  because  self- 
contradictory, — all  truth  whose  meaning  depends 
upon  not  its  bare  identity,  but  upon  its  relation 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


245 


to  the  very  content  of  all  intelligence,  is  not  ne- 
cessaiy,  but  contingent.  Leibniz  here  distinctly 
opposes  identical  truths  as  necessaiy,  to  truth  con- 
nected with  reason  as  contingent.  Synthetic  refer- 
ence to  the  very  structure  of  intelligence  is  thus 
made,  not  the  ground  of  truth,  but  a blot  upon  its 
completeness  and  necessity.  Perfect  truth,  it  is  im- 
plied in  the  argument,  is  self-identical,  known  by 
mere  analysis  of  itself,  and  needs  no  reference  to  an 
organism  of  reason.  The  reference,  therefore,  to  a 
principle  of  sufficient  reason  is  simply  a concession 
to  the  fragmentary  and  imperfect  condition  of  all 
knowledge.  Truth  in  itself  is  self-identical ; but 
appearing  to  us  only  confusedly,  we  employ  the 
idea  of  sufficient  reason  as  a makeshift,  by  which 
we  refer,  in  a mass,  all  that  we  cannot  thus  reduce 
to  identical  propositions,  to  an  intelligence,  or  to  a 
Deus  ex  mcichina  which  can  so  reduce  it.  This  is 
the  lame  and  impotent  conclusion. 

Leibniz’s  fundamental  meaning  is,  no  doubt,  a 
correct  one.  He  means  that  contingency  of  fact  is 
not  real,  but  apparent ; that  it  exists  only  because 
of  our  inability  to  penetrate  the  reason  which  would 
enable  us  completely  to  account  for  the  facts  under 
consideration.  He  means  that  if  we  could  under- 
stand, sub  specie  aeternitatis , from  the  standpoint 
of  universal  intelligence,  we  should  see  every  fact 
as  necessary,  as  resulting  from  an  intrinsic  reason. 
But  so  thoroughly  is  lie  fettered  by  the  scholastic 
method  — that  is,  the  method  of  formal  logic  — that 
he  can  conceive  of  this  immanent  and  intrinsic 


246 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


reason  which  makes  every  fact  a truth  — that  is, 
self-evident  in  its  necessity  — only  as  an  analytic, 
self-contained  identity.  And  herein  lies  his  con- 
tradiction : his  method  obliges  him  to  conceive  of 
ultimate  intelligence  as  purely  formal,  simply  as 
that  which  does  not  contradict  itself,  while  the  atti- 
tude of  his  thought  and  its  concrete  subject-matter 
compel  him  to  think  of  intelligence  as  possessing 
a content,  as  the  organic  unity  of  a system  of 
relations. 

From  this  contradiction  flow  the  other  contradic- 
tions of  Leibniz,  which  we  are  now  prepared  to  ex- 
amine in  more  detail.  For  his  ideas  are  so  much 
greater  than  his  method  that  in  almost  every  point 
there  seems  to  be  contradiction.  His  ideas  per  se 
mean  one  thing,  and  his  ideas  as  interpreted  by  his 
method  another.  Take  his  doctrine  of  individuality, 
for  instance.  To  some  it  lias  appeared  that  the 
great  defect  of  the  Leibnizian  philosophy  is  its  in- 
dividualism. Such  conceive  him  simply  to  have 
carried  out  in  his  monaclism  the  doctrine  of  the  in- 
dividual isolated  from  the  universe  to  its  logical 
conclusions,  and  thereby  to  have  rendered  it  absurd. 
In  a certain  sense,  the  charge  is  true.  The  monad, 
according  to  the  oft-repeatecl  statement,  has  no  inter- 
course with  the  rest  of  the  universe.  It  really  ex- 
cludes all  else.  It  acts  as  if  nothing  but  itself  and 
God  were  in  existence.  That  is  to  say,  the  monad, 
being  the  self-identical,  must  shut  out  all  intrinsic 
or  real  relations  with  other  substances.  Such  rela- 
tions would  involve  a differentiating  principle  for 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


247 


which  Leibniz’s  logic  has  no  place.  Each  monad 
is,  therefore,  an  isolated  universe.  But  such  a re- 
sult has  no  value  for  Leibniz.  He  endeavors  to 
correct  it  by  the  thought  that  each  monad  ideally 
includes  the  whole  universe  by  mirroring  it.  And 
then  to  reconcile  the  real  exclusion  and  the  ideal  in- 
clusion, he  falls  back  on  a Dens  ex  machina  who 
arranges  a harmony  between  them,  foreign  to  the 
intrinsic  nature  of  each.  Leibniz’s  individualism, 
it  is  claimed,  thus  makes  of  his  philosophy  a syn- 
thesis, or  rather  a juxtaposition,  of  mutually  con- 
tradictory positions,  each  of  which  appears  true 
only  as  long  as  we  do  not  attempt  to  think  it  to- 
gether with  the  other. 

There  is,  no  doubt,  truth  in  this  representation. 
But  a more  significant  way  of  stating  the  matter  is, 
J think,  that  Leibniz’s  defect  is  not  in  his  individ- 
ualism, but  in  the  defect  of  his  conception  of  the 
individual.  His  individualism  is  more  apparent 
than  real.  It  is  a negative  principle,  and  negative 
in  the  sense  of  privatice.  The  individuality  of  the 
monad  is  due  to  its  incompleteness,  to  its  imperfec- 
tions. It  is  really  matter  which  makes  monads 
mutually  impenetrable  or  exclusive : it  is  matter 
which  distinguishes  them  from  God,  and  thus  from 
one  another.  Without  the  material  element  they 
would  be  lost  in  an  undistinguished  identity  with 
God,  the  supreme  substance.  But  matter,  it  must 
be  remembered,  is  .passivity ; and  since  activity  is 
reality,  or  substance,  matter  is  unsubstantial  and 
unreal.  The  same  results  from  a consideration  of 


248 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


knowledge.  Matter  is  always  correlative  to  con- 
fused ideas.  With  the  clearing  up  of  knowledge, 
with  making  it  rational,  matter  must  disappear,  so 
that  to  God,  who  is  wholly  reason,  it  must  entirely 
vanish.  But  this  view  varies  only  in  words  from 
that  of  Spinoza,  to  whom  it  is  the  imagination,  as 
distinguished  from  the  intellect,  that  is  the  source 
of  particular  and  finite  objects.  I 

It  is  perhaps  in  his  Theodicee , in  the  treatment 
of  the  problem  of  evil,  that  his  implicit  Spiuozism, 
or  denial  of  individuality,  comes  out  most  clearly. 
That  evil  is  negative,  or  privative,  and  consists  in 
the  finitude  of  the  creature,  is  the  result  of  the  dis- 
cussion. What  is  this  except  to  assert  the  unreality, 
the  merely  privative  character,  of  the  finite,  and  to 
resolve  all  into  God?  To  take  one  instance  out 
of  many : he  compares  inertia  to  the  original  limi- 
tation of  creatures,  and  says  that  as  inertia  is  the 
obstacle  to  the  complete  mobility  of  bodies,  so  pri- 
vation, or  lack,  constitutes  the  essence  of  the  imper- 
fection, or  evil,  of  creatures.  His  metaphor  is  of 
boats  in  the  current  of  a river,  where  the  heavier 
one  goes  more  slowly,  owing  to  inertia.  The  force 
of  the  current,  which  is  the  same  to  all,  and  which 
is  positive,  suffering  no  diminution,  is  comparable 
to  the  activity  of  God,  which  also  is  perfect  and 
positive.  As  the  current  is  the  positive  source  of 
all  the  movements  of  the  bodies,  and  is  in  no  way 
responsible  for  the  retardation  of  some  boats,  so 
God  is  the  source  only  of  activities,  — the  perfec- 
tions of  his  creatures.  “As  the  inertia  of  the  boat 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


249 


is  the  cause  of  its  slowness,  so  the  limitations  of  its 
receptivity  are  the  cause  of  the  defects  found  in  the 
action  of  creatures.”  Individuality  is  thus  reduced 
to  mere  limitation  ; and  the  unlimited,  the  real  which 
includes  all  reality,  is  God.  We  are  thus  placed  in 
a double  difficulty.  This  notion  of  an  all-inclusive 
one  contradicts  the  reality  of  mutually  exclusive 
monads  ; and  we  have  besides  the  characteristic  diffi- 
culty of  Spinoza, — how,  on  the  basis  of  this  unlimit- 
ed, self-identical  substance,  to  account  for  even  the 
appearance  of  linitude,  plurality  and  individuality. 

Leibniz’s  fundamental  defect  may  thus  be  said  to  be 
that,  while  he  realized,  as  no  one  before  him  had  done, 
the  importance  of  the  conception  of  the  negative , 
he  was  yet  unable  to  grasp  the  significance  of  the 
negative,  was  led  to  interpret  it  as  merely  privative 
or  defective,  and  thus,  finally,  to  surrender  the  very 
idea.  Had  not  his  method,  his  presupposition 
regarding  analytic  identity,  bound  him  so  com- 
pletely in  its  toils,  his  clear  perception  that  it  was 
the  negative  element  that  differentiated  God  from 
the  universe,  intelligence  from  matter,  might  have 
brought  him  to  a general  anticipation  not  only  of 
Kant,  but  of  Hegel.  But  instead  of  transforming 
his  method  by  this  conception  of  negation,  he  al- 
lowed his  assumed  (i.  e.,  dogmatic)  method  to  evac- 
uate his  conception  of  its  significance.  It  was 
Hegel  who  was  really  sufficiently  in  earnest  with 
the  idea  to  read  it  into  the  very  notion  of  intelli- 
gence as  a constituent  organic  element,  not  as  a 
mere  outward  and  formal  limitation. 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


250 

We  have  already  referred  to  the  saying  of  Leibniz 
that  the  monad  acts  as  if  nothing  existed  but  God 
and  itself.  The  same  idea  is  sometimes  expressed 
by  saying  that  God  alone  is  the  immediate  or  direct 
object  of  the  monad.  Both  expressions  mean  that, 
while  the  monad  excludes  all  other  monads,  such  is 
not  the  case  in  its  relation  to  God,  but  that  it  has 
an  organic  relation  with  him.  We  cannot  keep 
from  asking  whether  there  is  not  another  aspect 
of  the  contradiction  here.  How  is  it  possible  for 
the  monad  so  to  escape  from  its  isolation  that  it 
can  have  communication  with  God  more  than  with 
other  substances?  Or  if  it  can  have  communica- 
tion with  God,  why  cannot  it  equally  bear  real 
relations  of  community  with  other  monads?  And 
the  answer  is  found  in  Leibniz’s  contradictory  con- 
ceptions of  God.  Of  these  conceptions  there  are 
at  least  three.  When  Leibniz  is  emphasizing  his 
monadic  theory,  with  its  aspects  of  individuality 
and  exclusion,  God  is  conceived  as  the  highest 
monad,  as  one  in  the  series  of  monads,  differing 
from  the  others  only  in  the  degree  of  its  activity. 
He  is  the  “ monad  of  monads  ” ; the  most  complete, 
active,  and  individualized  of  all.  But  it  is  evident 
that  in  this  sense  there  can  be  no  more  intercourse 
between  God  and  a monad  than  there  is  between 
one  monad  and  another.  Indeed,  since  God  is 
purus  actus  without  any  passivity,  it  may  be  said 
that  there  is,  if  possible,  less  communication  in  this 
case  than  in  the  others.  lie  is,  as  Leibniz  says,  what 
a monad  without  matter  would  be,  “•  a deserter  from 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


251 


the  general  order.”  He  is  the  acme  of  isolation. 
This,  of  course,  is  the  extreme  development  of  t he 
“ individual”  side  of  Leibniz’s  doctrine,  resulting  in 
a most  pronounced  atomism.  Leibniz  seems  dimly 
conscious  of  this  difficulty,  and  thus  by  the  side  of 
this  notion  of  Clod  he  puts  another.  According  to 
it,  God  is  the  source  of  all  monads.  The  monads 
are  not  created  by  a choice  of  the  best  of  all  possible 
worlds,  as  his  official  theology  teaches,  but  are  the 
radiations  of  his  divinity.  Writing  to  Bayle,  Leib- 
niz expresses  himself  as  follows:  “The  nature  of 
substance  consists  in  an  active  force  of  definite  char- 
acter, from  which  phenomena  proceed  in  orderly 
succession.  This  force  was  originally  received  by, 
and  is  indeed  preserved  to,  every  substance  by  the 
creator  of  all  things,  from  whom  all  actual  forces 
or  perfections  emanate  by  a sort  of  continual  crea- 
tionAnd  in  his  Monadology  he  says  : All  “ the 
created  or  derived  monads  are  the  productions  of 
God,  and  are  born,  as  it  were,  by  the  continual  fi- 
gurations of  the  divinity  from  instant  to  instant , 
bounded  by  the  receptivity  of  the  creature  to  which 
it  is  essential  to  be  limited.”  What  has  become  of 
the  doctrine  of  monads  (although  the  word  is  re- 
tained) it  would  be  difficult  to  say.  There  is  cer- 
tainly no  individual  distinction  now  between  the 
created  monads  and  God,  and  it  is  impossible  to  see 
why  there  should  be  individual  distinctions  between 
the  various  created  monads.  They  appear  to  be  all 
alike,  as  modes  of  the  one  comprehensive  substance. 
Here  we  have  the  universal,  or  “ identity,  ” side  of 


252 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


Leibniz’s'  philosophy  pushed  to  its  logical  outcome, 
— the  doctrine  of  pantheism. 

Ilis  third  doctrine  of  God  is  really  a unity  of  the 
two  previous.  It  is  the  doctrine  that  God  is  the 
harmony  of  the  monads,  — neither  one  among  them 
nor  one  made  up  of  them,  but  their  organic  unity. 
This  doctrine  is  nowhere  expressly  stated  in  words 
(unless  it  be  when  he  says  that  “ God  alone  con- 
stitutes the  relation  and  community  of  substances  ”), 
but  it  runs  through  his  w'hole  system.  According 
to  this,  God  is  the  pre-established  harmony.  This 
conception,  like  that  of  harmony,  may  have  either 
a mechanical  interpretation  (according  to  which  God 
is  the  artificial,  external  point  of  contact  of  intelli- 
gence and  reality,  in  themselves  opposed)  or  an  or- 
ganic meaning,  according  to  which  God  is  the  unity 
of  intelligence  and  reality.  On  this  interpretation 
a1  one  does  the  saying  that  God  is  the  only  imme- 
diate object  of  the  monads  have  sense.  It  simply 
states  that  the  apparent  dualism  between  intelli- 
gence and  its  object  which  is  found  in  the  world 
is  overcome  in  God  ; that  the  distinction  between 
them  is  not  the  ultimate  fact,  but  exists  in  and  for 
the  sake  of  a unity  which  transcends  the  differ- 
ence. According  to  this  view,  the  opposition  be- 
tween ideal  inclusion  and  real  exclusion  vanishes. 
God  is  the  harmony  of  the  real  and  ideal,  not  a 
mere  arrangement  for  bringing  them  to  an  under- 
standing with  one  another.  Individuality  and 
universality  are  no  longer  opposed  conceptions, 
needing  a tertium  quid  to  relate  them,  but  are 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


253 


organic  factors  of  reality,  and  this,  at  the  same 
time,  is  intelligence. 

But  admitting  this  conception  as  stating  the  im- 
plicit intention  of  Leibniz,  the  relation  of  monads  to 
one  another  is  wholly  different  from  that  which 
Leibniz  gives.  And  to  this  point  we  now  come. 
If  in  God,  the  absolute,  the  real  and  the  ideal  are 
one,  it  is  impossible  that  in  substances,  which  have 
their  being  and  significance  only  in  relation  to  God, 
or  this  unity,  the  real  and  the  ideal  should  be  so 
wholly  separated  as  Leibniz  conceives. 

Leibniz’s  conception  relative  to  this  is,  as  we  have 
seen,  that  there  is  no  physical  injluxus , or  commer- 
cium , of  monads,  but  ideal  consensus.  Really  each 
shuts  out  every  other ; ideally , or  representatively, 
it  includes  every  other.  His  positive  thought  in  the 
matter  is  that  a complete  knowledge  of  any  portion 
of  the  universe  would  involve  a perfect  knowledge 
of  the  whole,  so  organic  is  the  structure  of  the  uni- 
verse. Each  monad  sums  up  the  past  history  of  the 
world,  and  is  big  with  its  future.  This  is  the  con- 
ception of  inter-relation ; the  conception  of  all  in 
one,  and  one  as  a member,  not  a part  of  a whole. 
It  is  the  conception  which  Leibniz  brought  to  birth, 
the  conception  of  the  thorough  unity  of  the  world. 
In  this  notion  there  is  no  denial  of  community  of 
relation ; it  is  rather  the  culmination  of  relation. 
There  is  no  isolation.  But  according  to  his  pre- 
supposed logic,  individuality  can  mean  only  identity 
excluding  distinction,  — identity  without  intrinsic  re- 
lation, and,  as  Leibniz  is  bound  at  all  hazards  to  save 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


2m 

the  notion  of  individuality,  lie  is  obliged  to  think 
of  this  inter-relation  as  only  ideal,  as  the  result  of 
a predetermined  tendency  given  at  its  creation  to 
the  self-identical  monad  by  God.  But  of  course 
Leibniz  does  not  escape  the  contradiction  between 
identity  and  distinction,  between  individuality  and 
universality,  by  this  means.  He  only  transfers  it 
to  another  realm.  In  the  relation  of  the  monad  to 
God  the  diversity  of  its  content,  the  real  or  universal 
element,  is  harmonized  with  the  identity  of  its  law, 
its  ideal  or  individual  factor.  But  if  these  elements 
do  not  conflict,  here,  why  should  they  in  the  relation 
of  the  monads  to  one  another?  Either  there  is 
already  an  immanent  harmony  between  the  indi- 
vidual and  universal,  and  no  external  arrangement 
is  needed  to  bring  it  about,  or  there  is  no  such 
harmony,  and  therefore  no  relation  possible  be- 
tween God  and  the  individual  monad.  One  side 
of  the  Leibnizian  philosophy  renders  the  other  side 
impossible. 

Another  consequence  of  Leibniz’s  treatment  of 
the  negative  as  merely  limitative  is  that  he  can  find 
no  distinction,  excepting  of  degree,  between  nature 
and  spirit.  Such  a conception  is  undoubtedly  in 
advance  of  the  Cartesian  dualism,  which  regards 
them  as  opposed  realms  without  any  relation  ; but 
it  may  He  questioned  whether  it  is  as  adequate  a 
view  as  that  which  regards  them  as  distinct  realms 
on  account  of  relation.  At  all  events,  it  leads  to 
confusion  in  Leibniz’s  treatment  of  both  material 
objects  and  self-conscious  personalities.  In  the 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


255 


former  case  his  method  of  escape  is  a metaphor,  — 
that  objects  apparently  material  are  full  of  souls,  or 
spirits.  This  may  mean  that  the  material  is  merely 
material  only  when  considered  in  implicit  abstrac- 
tion from  the  intelligence  which  conditions  it,  that 
the  material,  in  truth,  is  constituted  by  some  of  the 
relations  which  in  their  completeness  make  up 
intelligence.  This  at  least  bears  a consistent  mean- 
ing. But  it  is  not  mouadism  ; it  is  not  the  doctrine 
that  matter  differs  from  spirit  only  in  degree  : it  is 
the  doctrine  that  they  differ  in  kind,  as  the  con- 
ditioned from  the  conditioning.  At  times,  however, 
Leibniz  attempts  to  carry  out  his  mouadism  literally, 
and  the  result  is  that  he  conceives  matter  as  being 
itself  endowed,  in  some  unexplained  way,  with 
souls,  or  since  this  implies  a dualism  between  mat- 
ter and  soul,  of  being  made  up,  composed,  of  souls. 
But  as  he  is  obliged  to  explain  that  this  composition 
is  not  spatial,  or  physical,  but  only  ideal,  this  doc- 
trine tends  to  resolve  itself  into  the  former.  And 
thus  we  end  where  we  began,  — with  a metaphor. 

On  the  other  hand  there  is  a wavering  treatment 
of  the  nature  of  spirit.  At  times  it  is  treated  as 
precisely  on  a level  in  kind  with  the  monads  that 
“compose”  matter,  differing  only  in  the  greater 
degree  of  its  activity.  But  at  other  times  it  is 
certainly  represented  as  standing  on  another  plane. 
“ The  difference  bet  ween  those  monads  which  express 
the  world  with  consciousness  and  those  which  ex- 
press it  unintelligent! v is  as  great  as  the  difference 
between  a mirror  and  one  who  sees.”  If  Leibniz 


256 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


means  what  he  seems  to  imply  by  these  words,  it 
is  plainly  asserted  that  only  the  spiritual  being  is 
worthy  of  being  called  a monad,  or  individual,  at  all, 
and  that  material  being  is  simply  a dependent  mani- 
festation of  spirit.  Again  he  says:  “Not  all  en- 
telechies  are,  like  our  soul,  images  of  God,  — being 
made  as  members  of  a society  or  state  of  which  he  is 
chief,  — but  all  are  images  of  the  universe .”  In  this 
distinction  between  self-conscious  beings  as  images 
of  God  and  unconscious  monads  as  images  of  the 
universe  there  is  again  implied  a difference  of  kind. 
That  something  is  the  image  of  the  universe  need 
mean  only  that  it  cannot  be  explained  without  its 
relations  to  the  universe.  To  say  that  something 
is  the  image  of  God,  must  mean  that  it  is  itself 
spiritual  and  self-conscious.  God  alone  is  reason 
and  activity.  lie  alone  has  his  reality  in  himself. 
Self-conscious  beings,  since  members  of  a commu- 
nity with  him,  must  participate  in  this  reality  in  a 
way  different  in  kind  from  those  things  which,  at 
most,  are  only  substances  or  objects,  not  subjects. 

Nor  do  the  difficulties  cease  here.  If  matter  be 
conceived,  not  as  implied  in  the  relations  by  which 
reason  is  realized  in  constituting  the  universe,  but  as 
itself  differing  from  reason  only  in  degree,  it  is 
impossible  to  account  for  its  existence.  Why  should 
a less  degree  of  perfection  exist  than  is  necessary? 
Why  should  not  the  perfect  activity,  God,  complete 
the  universe  in  himself?  Leibniz’s  answer  that  an 
infinity  of  monads  multiplies  his  existence  so  far  as 
possible,  may  hold  indeed  of  other  spirits,  who  mirror 


CiilTICISM  AND  CONCLUSION.  257 

him  and  live  in  one  divine  society,  but  is  utterly  in- 
applicable to  those  which  fail  to  image  him.  Their 
existence,  as  material,  is  merely  privative ; it  is 
merely  the  absence  of  the  activity  found  in  conscious 
spirit.  How  can  this  deprivation,  this  limitation, 
increase  in  any  way  the  harmony  and  perfection  of 
the  universe?  Leibniz’s  theory  of  the  negative,  in 
fine,  compels  him  to  put  nature  and  spirit  on  the 
same  level,  as  differing  only  in  degree.  This,  so 
far  from  giving  nature  a reality,  results  in  its  being 
swallowed  up  in  spirit,  not  as  necessarily  distinct 
from  it  and  yet  one  with  it,  but  as  absorbed  in  it, 
since  the  apparent  difference  is  only  privative.  Nor 
does  the  theory  insure  the  reality  of  spirit.  This, 
since  one  in  kind  with  matter,  is  swallowed  up 
along  with  it  in  the  one  substance,  which  is  pos- 
itive and  self -identical,  — in  effect,  the  Dens  sive 
Natura  of  Spinoza. 

We  have  to  see  that  this  contradiction  on  the  side 
of  existence  has  its  correlate  on  the  side  of  knowl- 
edge, and  our  examination  of  this  fundamental  de- 
ficiency in  Leibniz  is  ended.  Sensation  is  on  the 
side  of  intelligence  what  matter  is  on  the  side  of 
reality.  It  is  confused  knowledge,  as  matter  is 
imperfect  activity  or  reality.  Knowledge  is  perfect 
only  when  it  is  seen  to  be  necessary,  and  by  “ neces- 
sary ” is  meant  that  whose  opposite  is  impossible,  or 
involves  contradiction.  In  spite,  therefore,  of  Leib- 
niz’s thorough  conviction  that  “ matters  of  fact  ” — 
the  subject-matter  of  physical  science  — are  not  ar- 
bitrary, he  is  yet  obliged  finally  to  agree  with  Locke 
17 


258 


LEIBNIZ’ S NEW  ESSAYS. 


that  there  is  no  certainty  to  be  found  in  such  knowl- 
edge, either  as  a whole  or  in  any  of  its  details.  The 
element  of  sensation,  of  confused  knowledge,  cannot 
be  eliminated.  Hence  it  must  always  be  open  to  any 
one  to  object  that  it  is  only  on  account  of  this  im- 
perfect factor  of  our  knowledge  that  there  appears 
to  be  a physical  world  at  all,  that  the  external 
world  is  an  illusion  produced  by  our  sensations. 
And  Leibniz  himself,  while  claiming  that  the  world 
of  fact,  as  opposed  to  the  realm  of  relations, 
possesses  practical  reality,  is  obliged  to  admit  that 
metaphysically  it  may  be  only  an  orderly  dream. 
The  fact  is  that  Leibniz  unconsciously  moves  in 
the  same  circle,  with  relation  to  sensation  and  the 
material  world,  that  confines  Spinoza  with  regard 
to  imagination  and  particular  multiple  existences. 
Spinoza  explains  the  latter  from  that  imperfection 
of  our  intelligence  which  leads  us  to  imagine  rather 
than  to  think.  But  he  accounts  for  the  existence 
of  imagination,  when  he  comes  to  treat  that,  as 
dpe  to  the  plurality  of  particular  things.  So  Leib- 
niz, when  an  account  of  the  existence  of  matter 
is  demanded  of  him,  refers  to  confused  knowledge 
as  its  source,  while  in  turn  he  explains  the  latter, 
or  sensation,  from  the  material  element  which  sets 
bounds  to  the  activity  of  spirit.  Leibniz  seems 
indeed,  to  advance  upon  Spinoza  in  admitting  the 
reality  of  the  negative  factor  in  differentiating  the 
purely  self-identical,  but  he  gives  up  what  he 
lias  thus  gained  by  interpreting  the  negation  as 
passivity,  or  mere  deprivation. 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


259 


To  sum  up,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  we  have 
more  to  learn  from  Leibniz’s  successes  or  from  his 
failures.  Leibniz’s  positive  significance  for  us  is 
in  his  clear  recognition  of  the  problems  of  modern 
philosophy,  and  in  his  perception  of  the  isolated 
elements  of  their  solution.  II is  negative  signifi- 
cance is  in  his  clinging  to  a method  which  allowed 
him  only  to  juxtapose  these  elements  without  form- 
ing of  them  a true  synthesis.  There  are  a number 
of  sides  from  which  we  may  state  Leibniz’s  realiza- 
tion of  the  problem.  Perhaps  that  which  distin- 
guishes Leibniz  most  clearly  from  Locke  is  their  re- 
spective treatments  of  the  relation  of  the  physical 
to  the  spiritual,  or,  as  the  question  presented  itself 
mainly  to  them,  of  the  “ natural”  to  the  ‘‘super- 
natural.” To  Locke  the  supernatural  was  strictly 
miraculous ; it  was,  from  our  standpoint,  mere 
power,  or  will.  It  might  indeed  be  rational,  but 
this  reason  was  incapable  of  being  apprehended  by 
us.  Its  distinction  from  the  finite  was  so  great 
that  it  could  be  conceived  only  as  something  pre- 
ceding and  succeeding  the  finite  in  time,  and  mean- 
while as  intercalating  itself  arbitrarily  here  and 
there  into  the  finite  ; as,  for  example,  in  the  re- 
lation of  soul  and  body,  in  the  production  of 
sensation,  etc.  In  a word,  Locke  thought  that 
the  ends  of  philosophy,  and  with  it  of  religion 
and  morals,  could  be  attained  only  by  a complete 
separation  of  the  “ natural”  and  the  “ supernatural.” 
Leibniz,  on  the  other  hand,  conceived  the  aim  of 
philosophy  to  lie  the  demonstration  of  their  liar- 


2G0 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


mony.  This  is  evidenced  by  his  treatment  of  the 
relations  of  the  infinite  and  finite,  of  matter  and 
spirit,  of  mechanical  and  final  causation.  And  he 
found  the  sought-for  harmony  in  the  fact  that  the 
spiritual  is  the  reason,  purpose,  and  function  of 
the  natural.  The  oft-quoted  words  of  Lotze  ex- 
press the  thought  of  Leibniz : “ The  mechanical 
is  unbounded  in  range,  but  is  subordinate  in  value.” 
We  cannot  find  some  things  that  occur  physically, 
and  others  that  occur  supernaturally  ; everything 
that  occurs  has  its  sufficient  mechanical  antecedents, 
but  all  that  occurs  has  its  significance,  its  purpose, 
in  something  that  does  not  occur,  but  that  eternally 
is  — Reason.  The  mechanical  and  the  spiritual  are 
not  realms  which  here  and  there  come  into  out- 
ward contact.  They  are  related  as  the  conditioned 
and  the  conditioning.  That,  and  not  the  idea  of  an 
artificial  modus  vivendi , is  the  true  meaning  of  the 
pre-established  harmony. 

In  other  words,  Leibniz’s  great  significance  for  us 
is  the  fact  that,  although  lie  accepted  in  good  faith, 
and  indeed  as  himself  a master  in  its  methods,  the 
results  and  principles  of  physical  science,  he  re- 
mained a teleological  idealist  of  the  type  of  Aris- 
totle. But  I have  not  used  the  right  words.  It 
was  not  in  spite  of  his  acceptance  of  the  scien- 
tific view  of  the  world  that  he  retained  his  faith  in 
the  primacy  of  purpose  and  reason.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  was  an  idealist  because  of  his  science, 
because  only  by  the  idea  of  an  all-conditioning 
spiritual  activity  could  he  account  for  and  make 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


261 


valid  scientific  conceptions ; he  was  a teleologist, 
because  natural  processes,  with  their  summing  up 
in  the  notion  of  causality,  were  meaningless  except 
as  manifesting  an  immanent  purpose. 

There  are  other  more  technical  ways  of  stating 
the  bearing  of  Leibniz’s  work.  We  may  say  that 
he  realized  that  the  problem  of  philosophy  con- 
sisted in  giving  due  value  to  the  notions  of  indi- 
viduality and  universality,  of  identity  and  difference, 
or  of  the  real  and  the  ideal.  In  developing  these 
ideas,  however,  we  should  only  be  repeating  what  has 
already  been  said,  and  so  we  may  leave  the  matter 
here.  On  the  negative  side  we  need  only  recall  what 
was  said  a few  pages  back  regarding  the  incom- 
patibility of  Leibniz’s  method  — the  scholastic  for- 
mal logic — with  the  content  of  his  philosophy.  The 
attempt  to  find  a formal  criterion  of  truth  was 
hopeless  ; it  was  worse  than  fruitless,  for  it  led  to 
such  an  interpretation  of  concrete  truths  as  to 
deprive  them  of  their  significance  and  as  to  land 
Leibniz  in  involved  contradictions. 

To  write  a complete  account  of  the  influence  of 
Leibniz’s  philosophy  would  be  too  large  a task  for 
these  pages.  If  we  were  to  include  under  this 
head  all  the  ramifications  of  thought  to  which 
Leibniz  stimulated,  directly  and  indirectly,  either 
by  stating  truths  which  some  one  worked  out  or 
by  stating  errors  which  incited  some  one  to  new 
points  of  view,  we  should  have  to  sketch  German 
philosophy  since  his  time,  — and  not  only  the  pro- 
fessional philosophy,  but  those  wide  aspects  of 


LEIBNIZS  NEW  ESSAYS. 


262 

thought  which  were  reflected  in  Herder,  Lessing, 
and  Goethe.  It  is  enough  to  consider  him  as  the 
forerunner  of  Kant.  It  has  become  so  customary  to 
represent  Kant  as  working  wholly  on  the  problem 
which  Hume  presented,  that  his  great  indebtedness 
to  Leibniz  is  overlooked.  Because  Hume  aroused 
Kant  from  his  dogmatic  slumbers,  it  is  supposed 
that  Kant  threw  off  the  entire  influence  of  the 
Leibnizian  thought  as  vain  dreams  of  his  sleep. 
Such  a representation  is.  one-sided.  It  is  truer  to 
state  that  Hume  challenged  Kant  to  discover  the 
method  by  which  he  could  justify  the  results  of 
Leibpiz.  In  this  process,  the  results,  no  doubt, 
took  on  a new  form  : results  are  always  relative 
to  method  ; but  Kant  never  lost  sight  of  the  re- 
sults. In  the  main,  he  accepted  the  larger  feat- 
ures of  the  Leibnizian  conclusions,  and,  taught  by 
Hume  of  the  insufficiency  of  the  method  that  Leib- 
niz followed,  searched  for  a method  which  should 
guarantee  them. 

This  aspect  of  Kant  appears  more  fully  in  his 
lesser  and  somewhat  controversial  writings  than  in 
his  classic  works  ; and  this,  no  doubt,  is  one  reason 
that  his  indebtedness  is  so  often  overlooked.  Ilis 
close  relation  to  Leibniz  appears  most  definitely  in 
his  brochure  entitled  “ Concerning  a Discovery  which 
renders  Unnecessary  all  Critique  of  Pure  Reason.” 
A Wolffian,  Eberhard  by  name,  had  “made  the  dis- 
covery” (to  use  Kant's  words)  “ that  the  Leibnizian 
philosophy  contained  a critique  of  reason  just  as 
well  as  the  modern,  and  accordingly  contained 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


263 


everything  that  is  true  in  the  latter,  and  much  else 
in  addition.”  In  his  reply  to  this  writing,  Kant 
takes  the  position  that  those  who  claimed  to  be 
J.eibnizians  simp'.y  repeated  the  words  of  Leibniz 
without  penetrating  into  his  spirit,  and  that  con- 
sequently they  misrepresented  him  on  every  impor- 
tant point.  He,  Kant,  on  the  other  hand,  making 
no  claim  to  use  the  terminology  of  Leibniz,  was  his 
true  continuator,  since  he  had  only  changed  the 
doctrine  of  the  latter  so  as  to  make  it  conform 
to  the  true  intent  of  Leibniz,  by  removing  its  self- 
contradictions.  He  closes : “ ‘ The  Critique  of 
Pure  Reason  ’ may  be  regarded  as  the  real  apol- 
ogy for  Leibniz,  even  against  his  own  professed 
followers,” 

Kant,  in  particular,  names  three  points  in  which 
he  is  the  true  follower  of  Leibniz.  The  professed 
disciples  of  the  latter  insisted  that  the  law  of 
sufficient  reason  was  an  objective  law,  a law  of 
nature.  But,  says  Kant,  it  is  so  notorious,  so  self- 
evident,  that  no  one  can  make  a new  discovery 
through  this  principle,  that  Leibniz  can  have  meant 
it  only  as  subjective.  “ For  what  does  it  mean  to 
say  that  over  and  above  the  principle  of  contra- 
diction another  principle  must  be  employed?  It 
means  this  : that,  according  to  the  principle  of  con- 
tradiction, only  that  can  be  known  which  is  already 
contained  in  the  notion  of  the  object ; if  anything 
more  is  to  be  known,  it  must  be  sought  through  the 
use  of  a special  principle,  distinct  from  that  of 
contradiction.  .Since  this  last  kind  of  knowledge 


264 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


is  that  of  synthetic  principles,  Leibniz  means  just 
this  : besides  the  principle  of  contradiction,  or  that 
of  analytic  judgments,  there  must  be  another,  that 
of  sufficient  reason,  for  synthetic  judgments.  , He 
thus  pointed  out,  in  a new  and  remarkable  manner, 
that  certain  investigations  in  metaphysics  were  still 
to  be  made.”  In  other  words,  Kant,  by  his  dis- 
tinction of  analytic  and  synthetic  judgments,  with 
their  respective  principles  and  spheres,  carried  out 
the  idea  of  Leibniz  regarding  the  principles  of 
contradiction  and  sufficient  reason. 

The  second  point  concerns  the  relation  of  monads 
to  material  bodies.  Eberhard,  like  the  other  pro- 
fessed Leibnizians,  interpreted  Leibniz  as  saying 
that  corporeal  bodies,  as  composite,  are  actually 
made  up  out  of  monads,  as  simple.  Kant,  on  the 
other  hand,  saw  clearly  that  Leibniz  was  not  think- 
ing of  a relation  of  composition,  but  of  condition. 
“ He  did  not  mean  the  material  world,  but  the  sub- 
strate, the  intellectual  world  which  lies  in  the  idea 
of  reason,  and  in  which  everything  must  be  thought 
as  consisting  of  simple  substances.”  Eberhard’s 
process,  he  says,  is  to  begin  with  sense-phenomena, 
to  find  a simple  element  as  a part  of  the  sense- 
perceptions,  and  then  to  present  this  simple  element 
as  if  it  were  spiritual  and  equivalent  to  the  monad 
of  Leibniz.  Kant  claims  to  follow  the  thought  of 
Leibniz  in  regarding  the  simple  not  as  an  element 
in  the  sensuous,  but  as  something  super-sensuous, 
the  ground  of  the  sensuous.  Leibniz’s  mistake  was 
that,  not  having  worked  out  clearly  the  respective 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


265 


limits  of  the  principles  of  identity  and  of  sufficient 
reason,  he  supposed  that  we  had  a direct  intellec- 
tual intuition  of  this  super-sensuous,  when  in  reality 
it  is  unknowable. 

The  third  group  of  statements  concerns  the 
principle  of  pre-established  harmony.  “ Is  it  pos- 
sible,” asks  Kant,  “that  Leibniz  meant  by  this 
doctrine  to  assert  the  mere  coincidence  of  two  sub- 
stances wholly  independent  of  each  other  by  nature, 
and  incapable  through  their  own  force  of  being 
brought  into  community?”  And  his  answer  is 
that  what  Leibniz  really  implied  was  not  a harmony 
between  independent  things,  but  a harmony  between 
modes  of  knowing,  between  sense  on  the  one  hand 
and  understanding  on  the  other.  The  “ Critique  of 
Pure  Reason”  carried  the  discussion  farther  by 
pointing  out  its  grounds  ; namely,  that,  without  the 
unity  of  sense  and  understanding,  no  experience 
would  be  possible.  Why  there  should  be  this  har- 
mony, why  we  should  have  experience,  this  question 
it  is  impossible  to  answer,  says  Kant,  — adding  that 
Leibniz  confessed  as  much  when  he  called  it  a 
“pre-established”  harmony,  thus  not  explaining  it, 
but  only  referring  it  to  a highest  cause.  That 
Leibniz  really  means  a harmony  within  intelligence, 
not  a harmony  of  things  by  themselves,  is  made 
more  clear,  according  to  Kant,  from  the  fact  that 
it  is  applied  also  to  the  relation  between  the  king- 
dom of  nature  and  of  grace,  of  final  and  of  efficient 
causes.  Here  the  harmony  is  clearly  not  between 
two  independently  existing'  external  things,  but  be- 


‘266 


leibniz’s  new  essays. 


tween  what  flows  from  our  notions  of  nature  ( Na- 
turbegriffe)  and  of  freedom  ( Freiheitsbegriffe ) ; that 
is,  between  two  distinct  powers  and  principles 
within  us,  — an  agreement  which  can  be  explained 
only  through  the  idea  of  an  intelligent  cause  of  the 
world. 

If  we  review  these  points  in  succession,  the  in- 
fluence of  Leibniz  upon  Kant  becomes  more  marked. 
As  to  the  first  one,  it  is  well  known  that  Kant’s 
philosophy  is  based  upon,  and  revolves  within,  the 
distinction  of  analytic  and  synthetic  judgments  ; and 
this  distinction  Kant  clearly  refers  to  the  Leibnizian 
distinction  between  the  principles  of  contradiction 
and  of  sufficient  reason,  or  of  identity  and  differ- 
entiation. It  is  not  meant  that  Kant  came  to  this 
thought  through  the  definitions  of  Leibniz  ; on  the 
contrary,  Kant  himself  refers  it  to  Hume’s  dis- 
tinction between  matters  of  fact  and  relations  of 
ideas.  But  when  Kant  had  once  generalized  the 
thought  of  Hume,  it  fell  at  once,  as  into  ready 
prepared  moulds,  into  the  categories  of  Leibniz. 
He  never  escapes  from  the  Leibnizian  distinction. 
In  his  working  of  it  out  consists  his  greatness  as 
the  founder  of  modern  thought ; from  his  accept- 
ance of  it  as  ultimate  result  his  contradictions. 
That  is  to  say,  Kant  did  not  merely  receive  the 
vague  idea  of  sufficient  reason : he  so  connected  it 
with  what  he  learned  from  Hume  that  he  trans- 
formed it  into  the  idea  of  synthesis,  and  proceeded 
to  work  out  the  conception  of  synthesis  in  the 
various  notions  of  the  understanding,  or  categories, 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


267 


as  applicable  to  the  material  of  sense.  What 
Leibniz  bequeathed  him  was  the  undefined  idea 
that  knowledge  of  matters  of  fact  rests  upon  the 
principle  of  sufficient  reason.  What  Kant  did  with 
this  inheritance  was  to  identify  the  wholly  vague 
idea  of  sufficient  reason  with  the  notion  that  every 
fact  of  experience  rests  upon  necessary  synthetic 
connection,  — that  is,  connection  according  to  notions 
of  understanding  with  other  facts,  — and  to  deter- 
mine, so  far  as  he  could,  the  various  forms  of  syn- 
thesis, or  of  sufficient  reason.  With  Leibniz  the 
principle  remained  essentially  infertile,  because  it 
was  the  mere  notion  of  the  ultimate  reference  of 
experience  to  understanding.  In  the  hands  of 
Kant  it  became  the  instrument  of  revolutioniz- 
ing philosophy,  because  Kant  showed  the  articu- 
late members  of  understanding  by  which  experience 
is  constituted,  and  described  them  in  the  act  of 
constituting. 

So  much  for  his  working  out  of  the  thought.  But 
on  the  other  hand,  Kant  never  transcended  the  ab- 
soluteness of  the  distinction  between  the  principles 
of  synthesis  and  analysis,  of  sufficient  reason  and 
contradiction.  The  result  was  that  he  regarded  the 
synthetic  principle  as  the  principle  only  of  our  knowl- 
edge, while  perfect  knowledge  he  still  considered  to 
follow  the  law  of  identity,  of  mere  analysis.  He 
worked  out  the  factor  of  negation,  of  differentiation, 
contained  in  the  notion  of  synthesis,  but  limited  it 
to  synthesis  upon  material  of  seuse,  presupposing 
that  there  is  another  kind  of  knowledge,  not  limited 


268 


LEIBNIZ’S  NEW  ESSAYS. 


to  sense,  not  depending  upon  the  synthetic  prin- 
ciple, but  resting  upon  the  principle  of  contradic- 
tion, or  analysis,  and  that  this  kind  is  the  type,  the 
norm,  of  the  only  perfect  knowledge.  In  other 
words,  while  admitting  the  synthetic  principle  of 
differentiation  as  a necessary  element  within  our 
knowledge,  lie  held  that  on  account  of  this  element 
our  knowledge  is  limited  to  the  phenomenal  realm. 
Leibniz’s  error  was  in  supposing  that  the  pure  prin- 
ciples-of  the  logical  understanding,  resting  on  con- 
tradiction, could  give  us  knowledge  of  the  nomnenal 
world ; his  truth  was  in  supposing  that  only  by  such 
principles  could  they  be  known.  Thus,  in  sub- 
stance, Kant.  Like  Leibniz,  in  short,  he  failed  to 
transcend  the  absoluteness  of  the  value  of  the  scho- 
lastic method  ; but  he  so  worked  out  another  and 
synthetic  method,  — the  development  of  the  idea  of 
sufficient  reason,  — that  he  made  it  necessary  for 
his  successors  to  transcend  it. 

The  second  point  concerns  the  relations  of  the 
sensuous  and  the  super-sensuous.  Here,  besides 
setting  right  the  ordinary  misconception  of  Leibniz, 
Kant  did  nothing  but  render  him  consistent  with 
himself.  Leibniz  attempted  to  prove  the  existence 
of  God,  as  we  have  seen,  by  the  principles  both  of 
sufficient  reason  and  contradiction.  Kant  denies  the 
validity  of  the  proof  by  either  method.  God  is  the 
sufficient  cause,  or  reason,  of  the  contingent  sense 
world.  But  since  Leibniz  admits  that  this  contin- 
gent world  may,  after  all,  be  but  a dream,  how  shall 
we  rise  from  it  to  the  notion  of  God?  it  is  net 


CKTTIOISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


2f>9 


our  dreams  that  demonstrate  to  us  the  existence  of 
reality.  Or,  again,  sense-knowledge  is  confused 
knowledge.  How  shall  this  knowledge,  by  hypoth- 
esis imperfect,  guarantee  to  us  the  existence  of  a 
perfect  being?  On  the  other  hand,  since  the  syn- 
thetic principle^  or  that  of  sufficient  reason,  is  ne- 
cessary to  give  us  knowledge  of  matters  of  fact,  the 
principle  of  contradiction,  while  it  may  give  us  a 
consistent  and  even  necessary  notion  of  a supreme 
being,  cannot  give  this  notion  reality.  Leibniz, 
while  admitting,  with  regard  to  all  other  matters 
of  fact,  that  the  principles  of  formal  logic  can  give 
no  unconditional  knowledge,  yet  supposes  that, 
with  regard  to  the  one  unconditional  reality,  they 
are  amply  sufficient.  Kant  but  renders  him  self- 
consistent  on  this  point. 

It  is,  however,  with  regard  to  the  doctrine  of 
pre-established  harmony  that  Kant’s  large  measure 
of  indebtedness  to  Leibniz  is  most  apt  to  be  over- 
looked. Kant’s  claim  that  Leibniz  himself  meant 
the  doctrine  in  a subjective  sense  (that  is,  of  a 
harmony  between  powers  in  our  own  intelligence) 
rather  than  objective  (or  between  things  out  of 
relation  to  intelligence)  seems,  at  first  sight,  to  go 
far  beyond  the  mark.  However,  when  we  recall 
that  to  Leibniz  the  sense  world  is  only  the  confused 
side  of  rational  thought,  there  is  more  truth  in  Kant’s 
saying  than  appears  at  this  first  sight.  The  har- 
mony is  between  sense  and  reason.  But  it  may  at 
least  be  said  without  qualification  that  Kant  only 
translated  into  subjective  terms,  terms  of  iutelli- 


270 


Leibniz’s  new  essays. 


gence,  what  appears  in  Leibniz  as  objective.  This 
is  not  the  place  to  go  into  the  details  of  Kant’s  con- 
ception of  the  relation  of  the  material  to  the  psy- 
chical, of  the  body  and  the  soul.  We  may  state, 
however,  in  his  own  words,  that  ‘’the  question  is 
no  longer  as  to  the  possibility  of  the  association 
of  the  soul  with  other  known  and  foreign  substances 
outside  it,  but  as  to  the  connection  of  the  presenta- 
tions of  inner  sense  with  the  modifications  of  our  ex- 
ternal sensibility.”  It  is  a question,  in  short,  of  the 
harmony  of  two  modes  of  our  own  presentation,  not 
of  the  harmony  of  two  independent  things.  And 
Kant  not  only  thus  deals  with  the  fact  of  harmony, 
but  he  admits,  as  its  possible  source,  just  what  Leib- 
niz claims  to  be  its  actual  source  ; namely,  some  one 
underlying  reality,  which  Leibniz  calls  the  monad, 
but  to  which  Kant  gives  no  name.  “ I can  well 
suppose,”  says  Kant,  “that  the  substance  to  which 
through  external  sense  extension  is  attributed,  is 
also  the  subject  of  the  presentations  given  to  us  by 
its  inner  sense:  thus  that  which  in  one  respect  is 
called  material  being  would  be  in  another  respect 
thinking  being.” 

Kant  treats  similarly  the  problem  of  the  relations 
of  physical  and  final  causes,  of  necessity  and  free- 
dom. Here,  as  in  the  case  just  mentioned,  his  main 
problem  is  to  discover  their  harmony.  His  solution, 
again,  is  in  the  union,  in  our  intelligence,  of  the  un- 
derstanding— as  the  source  of  the  notions  which 
“make  nature”  — with  the  ideas  of  that  reason 
which  gives  a “ categorical  imperative.”  The  cause 


CRITICISM  AND  CONCLUSION. 


271 


of  tlie  possibility  of  this  harmony  between  nature  and 
freedom,  between  the  sense  world  and  the  rational, 
he  finds  in  a being,  God,  whose  sole  function  in  the 
Kantian  philosophy  may  be  said  to  be  to  “ pre-estab- 
lish ” it.  I cannot  believe  that  Kant,  in  postulating 
the  problems  of  philosophy  as  the  harmony  of  sense 
and  understanding,  of  nature  and  freedom,  and  in 
finding  this  harmony  -where  he  did,  was  not  profound- 
ly influenced,  consciously  as  well  as  unconsciously, 
by  Leibniz.  In  fact,  I do  not  think  that  we  can 
understand  the  nature  either  of  Kant’s  immense  con- 
tributions to  modern  thought  or  of  his  inconsisten- 
cies, until  we  have  traced  them_to  their  source  in  the 
Leibnizian  philosophy,  — admitting,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  we  cannot  understand  why  Kant  should 
have  found  necessary  a new  way  of  approach  to 
the  results  of  Leibniz,  until  we  recognize  to  the 
full  his  indebtedness  to  Hume.  It  was,  indeed, 
Hume  that  awoke  him  to  his  endeavors,  but  it  was 
Leibniz  who  set  before  him  the  goal  of  these  en- 
deavors. That  the  goal  should  appear  somewhat 
transformed,  when  approached  from  a new  point  of 
viewr,  was  to  be  expected.  But  alas  ! the  challenge 
from  Hume  did  not  wholly  awaken  Kant.  He  still 
accepted  without  question  the  validity  of  the  scho- 
lastic method, — the  analytic  principle  of  identity  as 
the  type  of  perfect  knowledge, — although  denying 
its  sufficiency  for  human  intelligence.  Leibniz  sug- 
gested, and  suggested  richly,  the  synthetic,  the  neg- 
ative aspect  of  thought ; Kant  worked  it  out  as  a 
necessary  law  of  our  .knowledge  ; it  was  left  to  his 


leibniz's  new  ess  a vs. 


successors  to  work  it  out  as  a factor  in  the  law  of 
all  knowledge. 

It  would  be  a grievous  blunder  to  suppose  that 
this  final  chapter  annihilates  the  earlier  ones  ; that 
the  failure  of  Leibniz  as  to  method,  though  a fail- 
ure in  a fundamental  point,  cancelled  his  splendid 
achievements.  Such  thoughts  as  that  substance  is 
activity  ; that  its  process  is  measured  by  its  end,  its 
idea ; that  the  universe  is  an  inter-related  unit  ; the 
thoughts  of  organism,  of  continuity,  of  uniformity 
of  law,  — introduced  and  treated  as  Leibniz  treated 
them,—  are  imperishable.  They  are  members  of  the 
growing  consciousness,  on  the  part  of  intelligence,  of 
its  own  nature.  There  are  but  three  or  four  names 
in  the  history  of  thought  which  can  be  placed  by  the 
side  of  Leibniz’s  in  respect  to  the  open  largeness,  the 
unexhausted  fertility,  of  such  thoughts.  But  it  is 
not  enough  for  intelligence  to  have  great  thoughts 
nor  even  true  thoughts.  It  is  testimony  to  the  sin- 
cerity and  earnestness  of  intelligence  that  it  cannot 
take  even  such  thoughts  as  those  of  Leibniz  on  trust. 
It  must  know  them  ; it  must  have  a method  adequate 
to  their  demonstration.  And  in  a broad  sense,  the 
work  of  Kant  and  of  his  successors  was  the  discov- 
ery of  a method  which  should  justify  the  objective 
idealism  of  Leibniz,  and  which  in  its  history  has 
more  than  fulfilled  this  task. 


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